Waking Dreams
by Cursed Detective
Summary: Rewriting reality isn't as easy as they'd hoped, and some things can't be avoided. Still, it could be worse, and they've already changed things; most for the better. (Sequel to Lucid Dreams)
1. Prelude

_This is me back with the opening to the next installment of what is now going to be titled the 'Dreams' 'verse. I'm now going to go hunker down and sleep for a day or two, as I spent the better part of the last three not. Asthma was acting up really bad, and my preventive inhaler's shipment ran late, and didn't get in until this morning. Yay for never-close pharmacy. I can breathe while lying down, now, so. Yes. Sleep._

 _Prelude_

Ekoda High's class 2-B had been extremely subdued for nearly a week. One of their number was conspicuously missing and their resident prankster-magician, when he came at all, sat quietly and alternated between doing his work and staring out the window.

Nakamori Aoko had gained his attention a handful of times, occasionally drawing a wan smile, and Hakuba Saguru had managed to get a few sentences out of him, but overall Kuroba Kaito was paying little attention to his classmates.

He was well aware that his behavior was worrying people just as much as his husband-of-convenience's absence (they had gotten their mothers to arrange it, because they were so much older than everyone else in their age group, and even those they might once have been interested in weren't the people they remembered—might never _become_ those people, with how much they'd already changed), and he'd seen how Hakuba's manner grew more and more grim with each passing day.

Shinichi was alive, and Kaito knew where and how he was. But he couldn't _say_ that, not without inviting danger, because the police would want confirmation and that was the one thing they didn't dare give.

Not now. Not like this. It would be _months_ before they could synthesize the antidote, and during those months Shinichi would be officially missing and Kaito was going to have to act like it. And… it wasn't so hard, to look tired and worried.

He was, after all. Last time—the time-that-wasn't—Shinichi had grown ever so slightly weaker month by month, his system horribly compromised by a poison that hadn't killed when it should have, and all the times experimenting with antidote formulas had only furthered the damage.

It hadn't been noticeable at first, but by the end of it, when Shinichi had been able to be himself again, every should-have-been-minor cold had been a threat to his life. That it was happening again was horrifying, and only the knowledge that there was no need for all the experimenting had Kaito worried instead of _terrified._

He knew why Hakuba looked so grim, why the British detective's eyes flashed with pain and worry when they landed on him. He'd not been party to as many cases (even just in any given month) as Shinichi, but he knew the odds of finding someone who'd gone missing in any circumstances shrank each day. With the kind of circumstances that Shinichi had disappeared under, even an hour was usually too long for someone to survive.

Hakuba thought Shinichi was dead. Most of the police probably did, too, as well as the teachers and those of the class that stopped to think about it. Aoko included.

But… Shinichi _wasn't_ , and Kaito wasn't going to pretend he thought he _was._ Oh, he could worry. He _did_ worry. But as long as Shinichi lived, he wasn't going to be able to act like he'd died with any reliability, and he wasn't going to try.

(Let the police think it denial. In five months, after the antidote was ready, he'd prove himself right.)

 _xxxx_

"Kuroba…" Hakuba hesitated, not quite sure how to broach the subject. Kudo had gone missing while being chased by a gang of thugs who were dead-set on killing him, and after a week without word… well, Kudo was too smart and too resourceful for the extended silence to be anything but inability to break it. After this long, the only thing Hakuba could think was that Kudo was dead.

It wouldn't be official for at least a year, unless they found his body, but… watching Kaito keep hoping was starting to hurt almost as much as the sinking knowledge that his friend was almost certainly dead.

When Kuroba had retreated to the roof as soon as the lunch bell rang, Hakuba had followed him, and now blue eyes (the same shade as Kudo's, and as easily as they had swapped places over and over, how horrible would it be for Kuroba to look in the mirror?) fixed on him with clear annoyance.

"He's not dead, Hakuba," Kuroba told him, flat and calm.

There was something about the way he said it… there was no doubt, no hesitation. "There's a reason you're saying that." There had to be. And considering that Kudo and Kuroba had definitively proved _real_ magic to him, he'd be willing to accept 'I would know' as an answer.

Kuroba shifted, glanced around, then loosened his gakuran and tugged his shirt-collar down a little, a bright edge of white showing against skin. Not enough for Hakuba to tell what the shape was, but it was a brighter white than tattoo-ink could account for, and he frowned a bit. "What is…?"

"It can't tell me where he is, or even how, but… he's _not dead_. It would be black if he were dead."

The relief was staggering. Kudo—one of his very, _very_ few friends—was alive, and Kuroba had proof of it. It also explained why Kuroba continued to vanish frequently; he had to be looking. Or arranging for someone else to look. Either way, though, it begged the question of why he hadn't been in contact.

Hakuba nodded, "If there's anything I can do…?"

Kuroba shook his head, "Not right now. There's… not much to be done, honestly. I'm already doing what can be, and this isn't something that needs a detective, unfortunately."

Odd comment, but—well, Kuroba wasn't a bad detective himself, when he wanted to be. Probably at least on par with Hakuba himself, and Kuroba otherwise had a unique skillset that meant Hakuba would be redundant at best.

Even so… Kuroba knew something else, or at least suspected. Possibly he had a feasible reason for Kudo's lack of contact—that Organization they'd spoken of? If so…

Hakuba grimaced and backed down. Interfering could get one or both of them killed, and possibly himself as an afterthought. Best to leave it alone until he had more information. Kuroba would tell him when he _could_ help. Probably.

In the meantime, it was unfortunately safest to wait.

(That grated against his detective sensibilities, but he was practical enough to be patient. Or at least wait impatiently.)

 _xxxx_

Shinichi sighed, hiding in a villa-turned-safe-house in Izu that Kaito hadn't actually stayed in since his father died—at least, not this time around. It wasn't the first time the place stood in as a safe house, in that sense.

No one could see him in Tokyo (or Japan, but a remote villa in Izu was easier to hide in than any high-population area) until 'his' plane came in.

They had a cover story, and it was one that would probably work. It accounted for his appearance (both in the sense of 'arrival' and 'looks'), his propensity to stumble over dead bodies, and why he wasn't going to stay longer than four or five months.

Kudo Shinichi, of course, would have to stay missing for at least a few weeks after 'Conan' went home, just to make sure, and they had yet to work out a plan for that part, but…

Two more days being almost entirely alone, save for Jii dropping off supplies. Kaito had called him every day after getting Agasa to make the long-distance two-ways that the Black never had figured out existed the last time around, and the talks tending to last for hours did quite a bit to keep Shinichi sane.

He didn't want to be 'Conan' again, but at least he was familiar with it, this time. It was something _._ He could handle it. And he even had Kaito from the start, this time.

It would be… _bearable._

(Also, there was no way he was joining kiddie school in Ekoda. Or anywhere else. Just— _no._ The first time, when he'd _actually_ been seven, had been boring. The second time had been torture, even with the kids. A third? He'd do something incredibly rash and stupid; based entirely on his unstable teenage brain which he _still had,_ shrunken body or no, and probably end up getting hailed as some kind of Japanese-American genius child and would then end up with far too much attention on him and probably have his carefully-constructed cover fall apart and find himself needing another on the fly.

Yeah. _No._ )

 _xxxx_


	2. Chapter 1

.

 ** _Chapter 1_**

"You ready for this?" Kaito asked quietly, eying the front door like he wasn't entirely sure himself.

"No," Shinichi sighed, then flipped the 'Conan' switch. "We should go, anyway, though. We have to do it _sometime_."

Kaito offered a half-grin, "You always were the scariest kid I've ever met."

Conan smirked a little, stepping into his shoes and grateful that the Hakase already knew how to make them, this time around. He had indoor versions, now, too, and that was a comfort. "Really? I always thought it was Haibara."

Kaito snorted, "No, always been you. I mean, she's—okay, yeah, she's scary. But you— _you're_ terrifying. Haibara always had a sense of self-preservation."

"She _was_ a little skittish around you at first," Conan conceded, opening the door and promptly switching to English. He was supposedly raised in America, this time, and only supposed to be semi-proficient with Japanese. Also, his new 'Conan' birth certificate said he was just barely six, having been born too late in the year to start school yet. At least according to the American methods, and that was going to save him a lot of trouble—but of course Kaito couldn't leave a 'little kid' home alone, and setting him up in daycare when he didn't speak the language would be cruel.

Or, that's what they could claim, anyway.

"Come on, Conan," Kaito held out a hand, and Conan was edgy enough that even as Shinichi he might not have spurned the comfort. Of course, if he were Shinichi, he wouldn't have the _cause_ of the edginess, but the sentiment was there.

And then Aoko showed up, trotting to meet them and apparently having been camping their front walk for that purpose.

"Kaito! Is this your guest?"

"Hey, Aoko," Kaito kept to English, though he let his accent slip a little. He'd been 'getting better with Shinichi's tutelage' as he hadn't been great as a true teen, so he'd been losing the accent slowly by deliberate effort. "Conan, this is Nakamori Aoko—you'd say 'Aoko Nakamori', but the polite way to address her would be 'Nakamori-san' unless she says otherwise, okay?"

Conan nodded, and Kaito turned to his childhood friend, "This is Edogawa Conan. He's Shinichi's… some kind of cousin, I'm pretty sure Yukiko-chan was deliberately confusing in the explanation."

Aoko crouched a bit, and Conan sighed, a little put out at the fact that he was going to have to deal with being patronized, even if it was unintentional. From Kaito, it was actually kind of amusing, as he wasn't patronizing Conan but those watching. From everyone else…

And explaining to Hakuba was going to be a pain. Hopefully he wouldn't start wondering upon first meetings; he was still a little rash on abrupt confrontations, even if he _had_ been getting better. But Shinichi was a better actor, now, and Conan was a second skin; figuratively as well as literally.

"Hey, Conan-chan," she smiled at him like a younger child than he was claiming to be, and he really, really wanted to snap for that.

He settled for a discomfited grimace.

"Aoko," Kaito warned, "Conan may not speak all that much Japanese, but he _does_ know basic suffixes, and he doesn't like that one. He's just used to Americans calling everyone by their given names."

She blushed a bit, muttering something that involved the word 'cute' under her breath in Japanese, and Conan suppressed a sigh.

Girls. Small children. He _hated_ that combination when he was the child.

She shook her head, and asked "Would you rather just be called 'Conan', then?"

He blinked, then nodded slightly, "Yes, please, Nakamori-san. Or… Conan-kun?" he half-asked, glancing up at Kaito as if for affirmation.

Kaito gave an encouraging smile, but his fingers flicked through a coded, ' _This is going to be a_ long _day._ '

Well. He couldn't dispute that one.

"Conan-kun it is," she decided, picking the one she was more comfortable with.

Conan sighed again and stuck close to Kaito, Aoko eventually letting him be.

Now all he had to worry about was fielding the class—and Hattori. And Hakuba. And his _parents,_ who were probably on their way back again.

Somewhere, some god either hated him or thought he was funny.

 _xxxx_

Hakuba had possessed somewhat mixed feelings on hearing that Kuroba was having a small boy from America coming over to live with him for close to half a year. Kudo being missing was obviously taking a toll on him, and maybe Kudo was only _officially_ missing, since Kuroba wasn't frantic even in private, but he was definitely in some kind of danger or Kuroba wouldn't be so… _drawn._

A child—even if the arrangement had been offered before Kudo had gone missing, right now Kuroba didn't seem to be in a fit state to look after a pre-school-aged boy, especially not one with a different primary language. But Kuroba would look after his family, Hakuba was certain of that.

The child would not be neglected.

But… what of Kuroba? Kudo wasn't dead and Kuroba wasn't broken, which was a plus. Kudo was missing and Kuroba was _worried,_ which was a definite minus. If he started channeling his energy into a likely traumatized child instead of self-care, _Kuroba_ could end up getting sick, and then where would any of them be?

(Because he wouldn't stop channeling energy into helping Kudo, and there was only so much one person could do before burning out.)

The first few days, the boy would be staying with Kuroba even during class hours. That would give Hakuba a chance to properly evaluate the situation, and possibly start getting to know the boy. He might be American, but Great Britain's English wasn't _that_ different. At the very least, the boy would likely take being able to understand at all as a blessing.

Hakuba sighed, trying to quell his restless thoughts. He was pretty sure Kuroba's guest was supposed to show up today _,_ and Kudo had been trying very hard to teach him to keep from jumping to conclusions or theorizing without evidence. Let the evidence lead to the conclusion, not the conclusion to the evidence.

He knew that. He _would_ follow it.

 _xxxx_

Kaito was pretty sure he was more nervous than Shinichi, though not more than Conan. Shinichi was getting to _hide,_ the jerk, except that Kaito didn't really believe he was a jerk. Or that he'd wanted this. Or deserved it. No, Shinichi wasn't _hiding,_ he was _trapped,_ but the trap hid him more thoroughly than any shadow.

And he had, eventually, fashioned Conan into a separate being in his own right, just as Kaito (and likely his father before him) had done with Kid. Kaito spared a moment to wonder what a psychologist would think of his and/or Shinichi's mental state, then huffed and quelled his nervous reaction.

Hakuba counted seconds. Shinichi bounced things off his feet, if he had the luxury of not needing to hide his restlessness. Kaito had his Poker Face so ingrained even as a true teenager that his biggest actual nervous tic was tangential thinking.

The pranks were calculated stress-relief or boredom-breaking.

(He wasn't sure what jumping off tall buildings and/or the occasional cliff or aircraft counted as.)

Conan poked his hip, looking up at him with wide, concerned eyes.

Kaito glanced down, "That obvious, huh?"

Conan nodded seriously, still pandering to the audience that was Aoko.

Kaito offered a small smile, "I'm okay, Conan. Just a little stressed."

Conan tilted his head, fingers tapping the outside of his thigh in a purposeful rhythm, and Kaito's smile widened a little. (Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aoko look startlingly relieved.) "Really, Conan. Don't you believe me?"

"Is it about my cousin?" he asked, giving Kaito an easy out.

"We'll get him back," Kaito said, completely assured of that. Of course, Shinichi was right in front of him, and he _wanted_ —but it would take time. One antidote, though, wouldn't be so bad. And… well, time alone had caused problems. Conan had stayed too small, not growing with his kiddie classmates. Even Haibara had grown fairly normally, but Conan stayed the smallest in his second elementary class, and while he was quite athletic by most standards even after three years as Conan and two under experimental antidote-testing, his physical abilities had _dropped_ as time went by, not increased.

When Haibara had realized the experiments were detrimental, she'd stopped them. Conan's condition had stopped declining as quickly, but he had continued to grow measurably, if not particularly _noticeably_ , worse.

She had realized that his life would be measured in years at that rate, not decades, and resumed cautious research on the antidote.

Five months shouldn't be too bad. The damage might not even be permanent, if they handled it carefully. But Kaito couldn't help but worry, and putting tiny Conan in a class full of people so much bigger and physically stronger… well. Accidents could happen.

"Stay close to me today, all right?" he asked.

Conan gave him a smile, small and reassuring. "Okay, Kaito."

"Well, here we go—what did that captain say? 'Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!'*"

Conan laughed, fingers tapping out a reply on Kaito's palm that was slightly more appropriate for the given situation, not that any but the two of them would recognize that. 'Once more unto the breach.'*

Kaito grinned, bright and reckless, and entered the classroom with a cloud of smoke and glitter.

When it cleared, no one was the color they'd started out as, and the entire group, teacher and students alike, showed visible relief at Kaito's first prank in weeks.

(He wasn't going to do them often, of course. No one would have cause to even _wonder_ if he was forgetting Shinichi. And he _was_ still worried. But—well, no harm in making it obvious that Conan's presence was a balm on his worry, if not an actual cure.)

 _xxxx_

 _*Common paraphrase of American Navy Admiral David Farragut's orders during the Battle of Mobile Bay, and one of Dad's favorite quotes. No one's entirely certain what was actually said during the battle, but the sentiment boiled down to basically that._

 _*From Shakespeare's Henry V, act III, if I'm remembering the acts in the right numbers._


	3. Chapter 2

_Well, Dad's frustrated and tired all the time, but he_ is _getting visibly better. Even if he doesn't feel like it_ _ _—_ which has more to do with subjective view than anything else, because even the on-staff doctor at the rehabilitation center has pointed out vast progress. Still, I'm spending a lot of time trying to keep him from getting too bored or down on himself, so updates will probably come with a lot more errors. If you spot some, do please feel welcome to point them out._

 ** _Chapter 2_**

When Kuroba introduced his young cousin-by-marriage, Hakuba was struck by the eerie likeness to both Kudo and Kuroba himself. While little Conan's hair was more like Kudo's—overall tamed with a cowlick or two—his general facial structure really did make him look like he could be a younger Kuroba with glasses.

But then, Kudo and Kuroba had always looked just as eerily alike, and the way the boy clung to Kuroba's hand and half-hid behind Kuroba's legs showed that this child was very much out of his element. Kuroba murmured to him in quiet English and the boy consented to sitting in Kudo's desk, casting occasional worried glances over his shoulder but slowly relaxing as first period went on.

Hakuba kept an eye on the boy, but it didn't seem necessary. Kuroba was doing the same, and Conan seemed uncomfortable but not incapable with Japanese. He seemed to be resigned to not understanding very well, but if something caught his attention he would ask Kuroba to translate more clearly.

The accent was definitely American—Kuroba's, too, though his was more Japanese-learning-American-English than actual American, but significantly better than anyone else in the class.

Then again, Kaitou KID. He _should_ be better than anyone else in the class… except the missing Kudo, who hadn't had a noticeable Japanese accent to his English at all. Which probably had something to do with the American relatives, come to think.

Hakuba shook his head, trying to dislodge scrambling thoughts. Kuroba had seemed far more himself, actually pulling a prank—a class-wide prank, at that—for the first time since Kudo had gone missing, but whether the cheer was genuine or an attempt to distract his young charge was debatable.

Still, he was doing something aside from… well, _brooding_ , which was a relief either way.

Conan tapped his fingers on his desk in a restless but familiar pattern and Kuroba blinked, straightening up a bit.

So the codes _were_ inter-family? Hakuba was starting to regret not asking to be taught, but inter-family communication methods might not be acceptable to share with outsiders. How did that tap-code work, anyway? He'd assumed it was based on Japanese, but if _Conan_ was using it—either sound-based or English-based?

"Hakuba," Kuroba asked suddenly, voice low and words English. "Can you come over after school? I could stand some English-speaking backup."

Hakuba blinked, derailed from his musings. "Ah, yes, of course," he replied in kind. "I have time."

 _xxxx_

It was going to be an interesting conversation, Kaito decided as he closed the door behind Hakuba. Whether the 'interesting' would be good, bad, or neutral was yet to be seen, but it would _definitely_ be interesting.

Conan produced a white-noise generator (that one had been upstairs—was it a good idea for him to use mahou with his body compromised?) and switched it on, out of Hakuba's direct line-of-sight more by incident than intent.

"Kuroba? Is there any news on Senpai?"

Well. That answered whether or not he had suspicions. Although Shinichi _was_ a good actor, now, far better than he'd been the first time around, and… well, _shrunk._ Hakuba might know of true magic, but the rules precluded something like that in a living form. To try and regress in age or even just make physically smaller would kill almost invariably, magic or no. (Shinichi hadn't gotten younger, merely smaller and child-proportioned.)

"Shinichi is…" he hesitated, trying to pick his words carefully, and Shinichi himself huffed, taking off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Standing right here," he interjected, apparently not caring to be nice about it.

Kaito winced slightly as Hakuba spun, eyes widening as they landed on 'Conan'.

"W-wha…" he trailed off, completely at a loss for words in evidence that he trusted Kaito not to joke about this.

Conan, he wouldn't be sure of even if he trusted Shinichi but he apparently trusted Kaito not to pull a prank in such poor taste.

"More like 'how'," Shinichi informed dryly. "Hakuba-kun, we've never lied to you—but we were judicious in withholding some truths. While _complete_ disclosure is still somewhat untenable, this deserves a proper explanation since we're deliberately letting you in on it."

"Senpai?" Hakuba asked weakly.

Shinichi nodded, suddenly looking his actual age instead of either his Conan-claimed age or the age the timeline put him at.

Kaito agreed on that front, though. Hakuba had learned enough that telling him the truth of why he and Shinichi were so inseparable, why they were married, was only fair.

"Have a seat, Hakuba," Kaito herded him into the sitting room. "I'll make tea—this will take a while."

Shinichi snorted, " _I'll_ make tea," he informed, prodding Kaito's thigh pointedly. "You always complain that yours is terrible and want me to make it anyway."

Kaito grinned, tipping his head in acknowledgement. "You okay with the stove, or shall I…?"

"You put the kettle on," Shinichi told him. "I'm short again."

Kaito closed his eyes for a long moment, "I know," he said finally, ignoring how Hakuba eyed them both in concern. "It won't be for as long, this time."

Shinichi nodded, "With any luck, the damage won't be permanent—but even if it is, it won't be as severe. Relax a little, will you?"

Kaito laughed, thready and just a little broken, "And even then it took three assassins and five bullets, huh?"

"Six," Shinichi murmured, eyes suddenly blank. "You took one for me."

That was true, wasn't it? Shinichi had actually been forced to _watch_ him die where he'd only had the sickening knowledge that Shinichi would, and no doubt watching had been made worse by knowing the killing shot had been meant for him.

"Enough of this for now," Kaito swallowed, trying to shake the memories. They'd been cornered anyway, and if Shinichi had gone down first, Kaito wouldn't have taken long to follow. "Tea. _Then_ we can worry about explaining." And after, he was carting tiny Conan-bodied Shinichi upstairs and cuddling him for _hours._ He needed a good cuddle, and by the end of the explanation, he doubted Shinichi would protest.

First, though. Tea.

 _xxxx_

Hours later, Hakuba managed to somehow end up at home—he suspected that Kuroba and Baaya had something to do with it, because he certainly didn't remember _how_ and Baaya was pushing a teacup into his hands.

He raised it to his lips more on instinct than anything and choked on the first swallow, coughing as what he'd expected to be tea or even coffee turned out to be _brandy_. "Baaya!" he protested, the surprise dragging him back out of his thoughts quite effectively. "I'm underage!"

She snorted at him, "I'll thank you not to make a habit of it, but _that,_ you will drink. You've had a shock, it seems, and the brandy will take the edge off. There's not enough there to get you drunk."

He weighed his options briefly and nodded once, downing the rest of the cup in two swallows, suppressing the urge to cough again at the burn in his throat.

His housekeeper nodded and took the cup back. "I'll leave you to your thoughts," she informed, "but if I don't see you by ten tomorrow, I'm calling a doctor."

That was quite the threat, and Hakuba nodded slightly. "Thank you, Baaya," he offered quietly, truly grateful for her brand of stern caring. Sometimes she surprised him, but she was always _there._

Twenty minutes later, he'd managed to accept the dual concepts of 'shrunk' and 'time-travel' at least enough to be grateful that Kudo was alive and… reasonably safe, if on a time limit for how long the relative safety would last. (Kuroba said they had a cure, but it would take time to make. He'd had a dark look in his eyes when he'd said it, and Hakuba had been afraid to ask why. Kudo had told him anyway.)

The 'shrunk' part had irrefutable proof. Once he'd dropped the act, Kudo was scarily _Kudo,_ even at the general appearance of a five-year-old. The time-travel… not 'proof', exactly, but it fit. It made so many things make sense about Kudo and Kuroba both.

They hadn't gone into detail, really, but he was pretty sure they'd outlined most of what they'd been through. Even without detail, Hakuba could see why they were so close, why they clung to each other so tightly. To be with only one person to rely on for so long, and _then_ to be tossed into a situation where every familiar face was too young and scarcely knowing them… well. Hakuba knew he wouldn't have come out of something like that near so well.

(He didn't think about the rest of it. They'd said they'd _died_.)

He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair and ignoring the mess he made of it by doing so. Enough. What was, was, and considering the existence of magic, Hakuba wasn't able to be certain there weren't some kind of governing metaphysics laws around this kind of thing. There was probably some kind of logic to it somewhere; he just didn't know what it was.

He also wasn't too interested in finding out. There were some mysteries—not many, mind, but _some_ —that really _were_ better off remaining mysteries.

(Anything to do with sorcery was generally on that list.)

 _xxxx_

"Is he going to be all right?" Shinichi asked, eying the door after Hakuba's housekeeper had herded his fellow detective out to her car.

Kaito shrugged, "It may take him a day or two to get his head around it, but yeah. He'll be fine."

Shinichi looked down at his too-small hands and nodded, taking Kaito's word on that. Kaito had always known Hakuba better than Shinichi had, and if Shinichi hadn't had to deal with shrinkage and magic for years before being dumped eighteen years in the past, he might have had some trouble wrapping his head around it, too.

At least Hakuba had already been given a few months to get used to the 'magic is real' part.

Shinichi shook off that thought and turned his attention to his husband (who now had to pretend to be his older distant-cousin-by-marriage. How was this their lives?), frowning at a few subtle tells. "Are _you_ all right?"

Kaito blinked, glanced down at him, and huffed; offering a wry smile. "Never can get anything past you, huh? Yeah, this whole thing's bothering me, but… as long as you're okay, I will be."

Fair enough. "It won't even be for a full year this time if we manage to get the equipment in a timely manner, and I have no intention of bouncing sizes unless there is literally no other choice. If there _is_ permanent damage, it won't be nearly as bad as last time."

Kaito breathed out, closing his eyes briefly as some of the tension drained out of his shoulders. "Right. You're right," he agreed. "So long as we're careful, it's going to be okay."

 _xxxx_


	4. Chapter 3

_It occurs to me that I get fewer reviews during the school year. I'd be tempted to only post when there isn't school, except I'd never be able to hold off on a completed chapter's posting for so long. Finished chapters just feel like they should be posted, okay?_

 _Side note: Dad's doing a bit better, mood-wise. Since he can stand and walk short distances now—_ _with a spotter, for safety's sake_ _—_ _his physical improvement is now obvious to him, too._

 ** _Chapter 3_**

Conan was banging his head against Kaito's leg, a low, frustrated keen in his throat.

Kaito couldn't blame him. The murder-magnet effect never had been dulled by shrinkage, but this time he was having to start over with the Conan-and-police bit. At least Kaito was with him, and probably usually would be, and could help with getting the police to the right answers quickly.

They knew him, after all, and while he wasn't Shinichi, he was trusted and observant. Solving as quickly as Shinichi usually did would seem a little strange, but that was easily avoided in anything that didn't have a time limit, and once the police realized how unutterably _bright_ Conan was, they would be easy to lead into thinking the speed was Kaito and Conan joining forces.

"Kuroba-kun," Megure-keibu greeted gently, glancing down at the frustrated child at his knee—literally.

"Conan, stop that," Kaito huffed in English, "I know you were hoping that coming here would dull the effect, but I _told_ you Shinichi never managed to outrun it. We're good at handling it, here. You won't have to deal with the way they were back in America."

Conan stopped trying to imprint his forehead onto Kaito's kneecap, "I know," he replied, sighing. "I guess maybe it's a good thing Shinichi's not here. What would happen if we were in the same place?"

Kaito got a sudden image of Shinichi and Conan as actual separate people and crossing paths with each other. He cringed, "Oh, uh, I don't even want to know. That's _horrifying."_

Apparently Shinichi got the same thought, because he cringed a bit, too. "Are the police going to make us stay a long time?" he asked, looking up with wide eyes.

Kaito eyed the scene, "I don't know. Sometimes things get settled really fast when we help, and sometimes things take a while."

Conan perked up, "We can help? They listen?"

Kaito nodded, ignoring how Megure was not able to keep up with the conversation. "They do. Shinichi usually helps them a lot. Right now, we'll just have to do it ourselves."

Conan nodded, then pointed over towards the corner, "There was something weird about the scuff marks over there, but they wouldn't let me get a good look. Do you think you can...?"

And so they started training the police, with Conan sometimes haltingly explaining what he saw in stilted Japanese and sometimes chattering at Kaito in English and leaving it to him to translate.

Megure allowed it, though at first he was disapproving—and of course he was, Conan looked like a _five-year-old_ for all he was claiming six, and honestly six wasn't much better. Then Kaito had quietly explained that Conan had Shinichi's luck, had _always_ had Shinichi's luck, and that people weren't treating him as some kind of death-omen was a blessing in itself, but if he felt like he could _help_ —there had to be a reason that he and Shinichi were pulled in like this.

After Conan pointed out the clues that made the cover unravel and the case come together, Megure was only looking thoughtful. He'd always been the superstitious one of Division One, though, and if Kaito could get him thinking that Conan was like Shinichi in calling because some force was determining he was the best one to find the truth, all of Division One would start hearing rumors.

Once Conan started proving his worth, Division One officers as a whole would start taking him seriously even when Kaito (or Hakuba or Hattori, he supposed) weren't there to prompt it.

And it was a good thing that Hakuba and Hattori both spoke perfect English, because that made leaving Conan with either of them seem like good, well-thought-out options. Which they _were,_ but not for the English. Detectives were good people to leave mini-Shinichi with, and detectives that knew who he was (they hadn't told Hattori yet, but they might not even get the chance before he figured it out, considering the last time around he'd figured it without ever having _met_ Shinichi before) were even better.

They could work with this.

 _xxxx_

"How you holding up?" Kaito asked in English, sounding mostly casual as they walked home.

Conan gave him a wry glance and responded in kind, "Surprisingly okay. I'm attributing that to your influence, by the way—dealing with the police was easier than I expected. What did you say to Megure-keibu?"

"That you have the luck you do and there has to be a reason for it—keep with the clues and they'll start taking you seriously more quickly than the last time around."

Conan nodded, "I sure hope so. Having to _trick_ them into thinking was a pain."

Kaito huffed out something that wasn't quite a laugh, "Yeah, I imagine it was. I've had to do that a few times with Nakamori-keibu when he was too focused on something obvious to notice it wasn't _real._ "

Conan shrugged, "It's fine. After the first year, they started forgetting I was a kid, mostly. Occhan didn't, though—he always tried to chase me away. I think… I think he was trying to keep me out of it. He never was good at _showing_ he cared, but he really hated that I saw all that death."

"… there are so many things that are different, now," Kaito observed aloud, sounding more wistful than Shinichi had heard in a while. He knew Kaito understood—they'd both lost everything, and coming back hadn't returned it.

It had only given them a chance to try again. The people they'd known, the relationships they'd built, the lives they'd lived—those were still gone. The fact that many of those people had been killed before made the second chance precious, because those people may not be the people they were as Shinichi and Kaito remembered, but they were the people they'd been before everything.

But Shinichi and Kaito weren't. They'd been through too much, were too different now to build back what they'd had. "Yeah," Conan agreed. "There really are."

Kaito glanced down again, smiling slightly, "We seem to be managing all right even so."

"Heh," Shinichi paused, considering the circumstances and how much _worse_ things could have been—he was Conan again, true, but that was temporary, and if it hadn't been for the sheer luck of stumbling across Gin and Vodka earlier that same day, he probably would have been dead. "So we do."

 _xxxx_

With the new knowledge of who exactly 'Edogawa Conan' was, Hakuba found some things in the classroom made more sense—the tapping fingers and 'Conan's' semi-interest in the lessons among them.

Still, it was really amazing how _different_ Conan was to Kudo, despite the fact that he now knew they were literally the same person. It was almost enough to make him think of a dissociative identity disorder, except it was deliberate and completely controlled. It was more than acting, though—it was what Kid did to become someone else taken up to a higher scale, and Kid was _terrifyingly_ good at becoming someone else.

That Kudo was Kid as much as Kuroba was suddenly made more sense. If he'd had to do something like this for _years_ … well, no wonder he managed to fall into the role of Kaitou KID so seamlessly.

He was having trouble thinking of 'time travel' directly, but he could accept it as truth even if it was mind-breaking to dwell on. A lot of things made more sense with the concept of him having not seen Kuroba for the equivalent of eighteen years after the day before he'd shown up to school _married_.

The paranoia, the caution, the willingness to trust him where before Kuroba had only tolerated him—the fact that suddenly he was nowhere near as close with Nakamori-chan, that Kudo was the person he seemed to know best and care about most.

No, there was plenty of indirect proof of what Kudo and Kuroba had told him, on all levels, and Hakuba was grateful to be able to see with his own eyes that Kudo was… perhaps not 'well', but at least alive and relatively safe.

There was the slight problem of him being a significantly poorer actor than either of his Kaitou/Detective friends (and it still felt a little odd to have friends at all, much less ones that were _internationally wanted criminals_ ). He hoped he wouldn't give things away… maybe it wasn't such a good idea to spend a lot of time with Kudo and Kuroba while Kudo was Edogawa.

He'd have to talk to the two about that. He didn't want to start avoiding them without explanation—he may not be accustomed to having actual friends, but he knew that sudden shunning of friends often broke the friendship. He'd been a detective too long not to have seen some of those broken friendships turn a kind of sour that he had confidence would not happen with either of the two in question, but just because neither of them would go vengefully violent for it didn't mean that it couldn't cause some kind of permanent damage.

His first _real_ friends were not something he wanted to lose. He'd rather not have to avoid them at all, but he'd rather avoid them for a few months than get one or both of them killed.

"Hakuba-kun, are you paying attention?"

Hakuba jolted slightly, startled out of his thoughts by the question. He grimaced, "Sorry, Sensei. It's been a long week."

Their math teacher sighed, casting a glance at the still-subdued Kuroba and the little boy in the seat in front of him that should have been occupied by a full-sized Kudo Shinichi. "It has," she agreed. "Still, you need to pay attention. Come do the problem on the board, please, Hakuba-kun."

Hakuba got up to do as he was told, grateful for the distraction from his circling worries. The teacher was right—school was for class. He could worry about the Kudo-and-Kuroba issues later.

 _xxxx_


	5. Chapter 4

_Huh. How is it that I've been finishing chapters for both active stories on the same days, lately? Not that it matters, I guess. here you go!_

 ** _Chapter 4_**

Nakamori Ginzo wasn't quite sure what to do. Kaito was like a son to him, and that Kaito's _husband_ was missing under such grim circumstances was sobering, made worse by the fact that he actually _liked_ Kudo Shinichi. Worse again by that Kaito was still holding on to hope, despite the obvious and wearing worry.

That there was someone else staying with him was a bit of a comfort, even if the someone else was six and not a native speaker of Japanese. Maybe more of a comfort for those things, because it _forced_ Kaito out of his depression to take care of the kid.

And then he'd found out why Kaito and Kudo had said they'd take him until his parents recovered from their accident; why none of his American relatives had.

The kid had Kudo's luck.

That luck was horrifying enough on a teen. Oh, Nakamori had known that he'd had it his whole life, had found the reports from when he was a small child and a few from when he'd been a _baby_ , but that knowledge was clinical. He'd met Kudo, and Kudo was _terrifying_ on a case, all sharp eyes and impossible to deceive. It was probably why Kid liked him so much.

(According to Megure, who thought of Kudo rather like Nakamori thought of Kaito, the kid was the same, if hesitant about it. He was related to Kudo, though—some kind of family-borne curse? _Something_ wanted those bodies found, and if the child had the same way of seeing the truth of things… well, Nakamori would finally have the 'why' answered, if not the 'what' or 'how'.)

And there was another problem. Kaitou KID had been silent a good long while, and Nakamori wasn't the only one to think it odd. The last heist had been the ridiculous _Sherlock Holmes book_ , and that had been over two months before.

The book still hadn't been returned.

Which meant there was a distinct possibility that the snipers Kaito had unhappily mentioned and Nakamori and Division One had found evidence of may have managed to bring Kid down, and that was _not_ a thought he liked. He blustered, and gods knew the bastard annoyed him, but he didn't want Kid _dead._

Sometimes—just _sometimes_ —he wasn't even sure he wanted him captured. (Then he'd do something that ended with the majority of his force in varying states of consciousness and dignity and Nakamori would curse and rage and resolve to throw the lunatic in the deepest cell he could find just to see how long it would take him to get back out. If they stripped him to his underwear and tied him up with duct-tape, it might even hold him for a while.)

The training sessions had been cancelled for the foreseeable future, though. He couldn't ask that of Kaito, not _now._ Not when Kaito had established and begun those sessions with his husband at his side, and the lack would be felt all too keenly even by the 'force. To put _Kaito_ into that position… no. He couldn't even ask. Kaito probably wouldn't want to go to heists anymore, either, as they were also something that he did, if not _with_ his husband, in competition against.

If Kid was even still alive.

Nakamori sighed and looked down at the report on his desk for the thousandth time. There, in black printed across white, was everything they knew of Kudo's disappearance.

Nothing new, nothing _useful,_ and no further leads. If they didn't find him, Kaito would keep slowly fading until he was nothing but a shadow of himself. He'd been poorly off when his father had died, but this was worse.

If Kudo was dead—and Nakamori had worked Division One more than long enough to learn the odds of that before he'd transferred to Division Two—Kaito would _break._ But… it would be closure, the kind of break that might one day become an acceptable ache in the back of his mind, but no longer an overwhelming pain. (Nakamori knew that kind of hurt. He'd lost his wife, after all, and it was only too easy to see that Kaito felt at least as strongly for Kudo even if maybe it weren't the same _kind_ of strongly.) This, this _wondering_ , this holding on to an ever-more-futile hope…

Kaito was coming apart in a way that Nakamori didn't think _could_ be fixed, not without closure. Not without a clean break.

It seemed that everything was spiraling away, and watching Aoko hurt over Kaito and Kaito just _hurt_ was…

He'd head over and check on him after work. Meet his new house-guest and get a feel for the situation as it was now. Aoko had said Kaito seemed better yesterday, with the kid there.

Maybe it would be enough to stop the decline. Maybe it would even _help._

Nakamori took a breath and slid the (useless) report into his top desk-drawer, fingers trailing briefly over Kudo's name. _Sorry, Kudo-kun. I'll do my best to look after Kaito, but without you here… I know it's asking a lot, but please don't be dead. Come home._

He slid the drawer closed and turned his attention to the smuggling ring in Haido. Maybe he couldn't do anything for Kudo, but he could at least make _some_ lives safer. Getting that large a group of drug-runners out of there would save some lives, especially with how many of the drugs were cut with substances that really shouldn't be mixed into that kind of thing. Opiates were bad enough on their own, nevermind mixed with _other_ toxic substances.

 _xxxx_

Conan groaned, flopping across the couch and ignoring the concerned sound from Kaito's direction and the questioning sound from Hakuba's. "L'me'lone," he demanded, the pillow muffling his words together with how he'd pressed his face into it.

He heard Kaito sigh and felt the afghan from the chair across the room settle over him before a familiar set of hands pointedly shifted him so he was on his side, facing the couch-back with his airways clear.

"Try to sleep," Kaito instructed gently. "Your body hasn't adjusted yet."

He had noticed that already, but Hakuba had wanted to talk and he could manage a _conversation_ —

"Hakuba can do his homework here and stay for dinner. _Rest,_ Shin-chan. We can wait a few hours."

Well. That was logical, and Kaito rarely resorted to explaining logically. Besides which, Shinichi knew he really _wasn't_ recovered, yet. It had taken weeks for his body to adjust the first time, and the temps had left him sore and tired for near as long each time he'd taken them, for all that he'd pushed through it. The less he forced when he didn't need to, the quicker his body would stabilize.

He grumbled wordlessly and closed his eyes.

Sleep sucked him under in moments.

 _x_

Kaito nodded slightly, unsurprised that Shinichi's body gave in so quickly. It was still worrying—but it was a familiar worry, one he'd long since learned to live with. As much as he loved Shinichi, he couldn't do anything less. They'd been partners too long for that, and even when they'd been enemies he wouldn't have turned away if he'd known his Tantei-kun needed help.

"Is he all right?" Hakuba asked quietly, looking worried.

Kaito sighed, brushing his fingers through baby-fine hair, "Not really, no," he admitted. "It's _poison,_ Hakuba. It's killing him slowly—slowly enough that we didn't even realize it until too late to prevent serious permanent damage, the last time around. This time… we have the formula. I've already started to get what we need to synthesize it, and so long as he stays away from certain types of alcohol and a few herbal cold remedies, he should be all right in the end. But… he's so small, and his body never did take well to the transformations. It's little surprise that he's still recovering."

Hakuba grimaced, and Kaito was more than willing to echo the sentiment. "If we're careful, he'll be fine. If you don't mind hanging out more often, though… the whole 'murder magnet' thing is bad enough, but when he's this size, a lot of those types see him as an easy hostage. There have been close calls before, and I'd rather he didn't get shot again."

"'m not _that_ bad," Shinichi opened one eye to give a hazy glare.

" _Conan_ ," Kaito raised an eyebrow, emphasizing the name pointedly, "You've been shot, stabbed, beaten, thrown out of an airship well over a kilometer above the ground, half-drowned, buried in an avalanche, and caught in more explosions than I care to remember. No, you're not that bad—you're _worse._ "

Hakuba made a strangled sound and Shinichi huffed quietly, subsiding at the list. "Been _fine,_ except for the shot and the poisoned," he pointed out, yawning and starting to sit up.

Kaito planted a finger in the center of his forehead and _scowled_ until he lay back down again. "You've gotten out remarkably well," he agreed. "But the airship one… if I hadn't been there—that's a _long_ way down."

"Mm. The fake bioterrorists. That was so weird—who _fakes_ bioterrorism?"

"You got shot a couple times there, too," Kaito added thoughtfully.

"Grazed," Shinichi corrected. " _Grazed,_ not shot. Those guys were nuts."

"More like 'will be'," Kaito grumped. "Damn it, we can't even skip the heist, because if they're there and we're not, things'll get _really_ messy. Don't get thrown out the window again."

Shinichi hummed, "Give me a parachute."

Hakuba finally found his voice, "My god, you two are serious."

Shinichi shrugged at him.

Kaito grinned, wry and tired. "I tell him his life is a crime drama, but I really think it's worse than that."

"I've _watched_ crime dramas," Shinichi agreed, "They don't involve half the ridiculousness that is my life. Who survives a _body-destroying poison_ by turning into a six-year-old, anyway?"

"You!" Kaito stated, falsely cheerful. "Well, and Haibara-san."

"Haibara had the excuse of partial resistance due to long-term exposure."

Kaito blinked, "Huh. Hadn't thought of that. Anyway, you, go to sleep."

"I _was_ asleep, noisemaker," Shinichi pointed out.

Kaito huffed, then scooped him up off the couch amidst indignant squawking, "I'm putting you upstairs," he informed cheerily. " _You're_ taking a nap, Conan- _chan._ You need the sleep."

Shinichi gave up on his escape attempts, clearly aware that they weren't going to work. " _Fine,_ " he sulked.

Kaito settled him into bed, tucking the blanket around him comfortably, "I'm sorry," he said gently. "I just…"

"Worry," Shinichi offered a wan smile, "I know. I would too—go make Hakuba do his homework while I take a nap, will you? He's fretting and could use the distraction."

Kaito smiled, "Sure thing, Shin-chan! I won't even dye his hair green!"

Shinichi eyeballed him, "Or any other color?"

"You know me so well," Kaito waved, dodging back out of the room.

"That wasn't an answer!" he heard Shinichi grumble after him and he grinned. The whole thing was a mess, but it was better than it could have been and Shinichi was still entirely himself—not depressed as Kaito had feared.

It wasn't great, but that was all right. Things would get better.

Hopefully.

 _xxxx_

Hakuba was starting to understand just how much Kuroba worried. Time-travel in and of itself didn't seem… bad, really, even if it wasn't supposed to be _real_ ; but if Kuroba had only been able to stand by and watch while someone he cared about slowly died in front of him…

Yes. Yes, the way he looked at Kudo sometimes made a lot more sense. The way he worried over Kudo now, as little Conan… Hakuba was starting to understand that, too. The words 'it's _poison_ ' immediately followed by 'it's killing him slowly', had him starting to feel that worry, himself, and he didn't have anything close to Kuroba's bond with Kudo.

When Kuroba made his way down the stairs with a smile that was softly fond, Hakuba's swelling unease settled a bit. They—well, _Kuroba_ —had said they had time. That it had taken years for it to get bad. Months was only a fraction of that, and if Hakuba's presence could _help…_ but he wasn't an actor. "Kuroba, are you sure I should be here?"

Kuroba rolled his eyes, "Conan says to do your homework," he informed in lieu of a reply.

Hakuba sighed and moved over to pick up his school bag, then started towards the table. He didn't _want_ to broach the subject, but it needed to be brought up. "I'm not… I can't act the way you can, Kuroba. Not even close. Knowing this… I don't want to give anything away."

Kuroba paused, turning to look at him. "I appreciate the concern," he decided. "Conan is enough like Shinichi that even if you slip up, you have a perfectly good excuse, and Conan's also _different_ enough from Shinichi that I doubt you'll need to worry about acting. You'll see as soon as he's feeling better—Conan's _terrifying,_ but he's not Shinichi."

Odd way to put it, but… "How does that work? It's—he's not MPD."

Kuroba shrugged one shoulder, "I'm not Kid. I never have been. Kid's… he's someone else entirely. Shinichi's not Kid, but Kid _can be_ either of us. Conan's not Shinichi. There are similarities, but… between us, there are four. It's _not_ MPD. Kid can be one or two, but Conan's Shinichi's. It's… we're not acting. I don't know how to put it—it's more like I step back, and let Kid just… take over. I'm not Kid, but—he's _me._ Thing is, he's _also_ Shinichi—sometimes I swear I get overlapping memories, and after learning as much as I have about _mahou,_ I'm starting to think that's not entirely impossible."

That didn't make _sense._ "What do you mean?"

"The human mind is a powerful thing, Hakuba. We create _._ It's what we _do._ This entire world we live in—a lot of it has been so changed by human hands that it would be literally unrecognizable to anyone who'd come before we'd changed things. We have redirected rivers, reshaped mountains, stalled even the sea _._ And magic… it's got rules, it has things it cannot do—but those limits are based on the people who use it and our ability to transcend the world around us. It's easy enough to imagine something shifting position or color so much that the world sees it as we do—but the power to change things has to come from something; nearly always the one initiating the changes. Thing is, there are things that are not _changes_ so much as concepts given form. Have you ever heard of a tulpa*?"

Hakuba shook his head, frowning. The term sounded vaguely familiar, but not enough so as to make sense.

"A more western equivalent would be 'thoughtform', I think. Tulpa are… they're concepts that have been fed so much power and belief that they become real, after a fashion. A true tulpa should have a visible form, near-always illusionary, capable of being seen and heard by others than its creator. They don't always have to be in one place at a time, either—as conceptual beings, they're significantly more fluid in time than 'real' things. The other catch is concepts can really get into your head, even if you weren't the one to originally come up with them."

That meant… what? That Kid was some kind of—separate entity? That Kuroba was only Kid because he was most convenient? Most open? Most similar to what Kid was?

That was a somewhat frightening thought, and made unnervingly feasible, after seeing two Kids standing side-by-side, completely indistinguishable from each other.

"Don't look like that—tulpa aren't ghosts, aren't quite that… How do I put it? You know me, right? Know who I am and a lot about me?"

Not sure where Kuroba was going with this, Hakuba nodded.

"Do you think you know _everything_ about me? Everything I think and feel, all my memories, all my skills?"

"No," Hakuba was nowhere _near_ that arrogant.

"I'm a person. A tulpa is very much like a thoughtform. It's only as real as it's _believed_ to be. Which is why I'm thinking Kid's becoming one, or maybe has become one, because Shinichi and I think of Kid the exact same way and have poured that into him, into _becoming_ him, at times, and… well. Just because it's in _our_ forms instead of one of its own doesn't make it any less a tulpa. They aren't that… _real._ It cannot make us do anything we aren't first _willing_ to do, and if there's one thing Kid has been made to be... it is _nonviolent._ "

That, Hakuba was willing to believe. It also made a weird kind of sense—Kudo and Kuroba were completely impossible to tell apart when they were acting as Kid, and even when they were acting as each other, Hakuba had started to be able to tell differences. He wasn't entirely sure who was who, but there were differences all the same.

If that was because they'd given Kid some kind of rudimentary existence of his (its?) own, then they were just tapping into it for the duration, in which case there was a certain part of them that _was_ the same, and there wouldn't be differences to _find._

That was just… "And Conan is the same?"

Kuroba shook his head, "Not exactly. Conan's… a partition. He's more of a person, really—just, Shinichi can't be Shinichi in that form, not in front of others, so as much as he originally had no idea how to act as someone else, Shinichi _is_ Conan. Conan's only a fragment, though. He's not—Shinichi is so much _more_ than Conan is."

Hakuba considered that. "So…"

"So, we'll see. If it looks like it's going to get dangerous, we'll take a break and figure something out. For now, though, don't worry about it. Last time around, things were more dangerous. This time… well, it wasn't Gin that poisoned him. They don't know us, yet."

That was only slightly reassuring.

Hakuba sighed, "Have you ever sat down and wondered how this is your life?"

Kuroba shook his head with a grin, "Nope! I always figured it was the price of being awesome!"

Hakuba rolled his eyes heavenward, "How is this _my_ life?"

Kuroba cackled at him, and suddenly there was smoke. Hakuba sighed when his hair drifted back into view, a dark shade of crimson.

How _was_ this his life?

 _xxxx_

 _*Tulpa are a Tibetan Buddhist concept. I elaborated slightly, but it is essentially so. Thoughtforms are indeed a western offshoot of the idea, somewhat less complicated in description. I've been fascinated with myths, legends, and a lot of wide-ranging religions and/or beliefs for a very long time, and have been looking for an excuse to plant tulpa in a story of mine for a few months now. Kid seemed a great place, considering this storyline has two of him._


	6. Chapter 5

_Chapter. Arg with the headache-spike again, so this one is short, but it felt like a decent, if perhaps not kind, place to leave off._

 ** _Chapter 5_**

Nakamori waited anxiously on the doorstep after ringing Kaito's doorbell, hoping that the teen and his new charge were home and hoping that he wouldn't see that dull, flat worry in his eyes if he answered.

The door opened to Hakuba Saguru, and Nakamori blinked.

"Nakamori-keibu?" Hakuba-kun (Nakamori wasn't sure when it had become '-kun', but it had, somewhere along the line) asked, startled. "Is there…?" he trailed off, a mix of worry and something else in his face, and Nakamori wasn't sure what the second was.

It almost looked like confusion, but Hakuba was always a little weird to read, so it could easily be hope. "No news on Kudo-kun," Nakamori sighed, hesitating. "Can I…?"

A blink, "Oh, right, of course. Kuroba's in the kitchen; I'll take over at the stove so you two can talk."

Nakamori had the somewhat inappropriately-timed thought that 'Kaito' and 'kitchen' were a scary combination before he remembered that Kudo-kun had been bullying him into better cooking.

He took off his shoes in the genkan while Hakuba went deeper into the house, then followed. He could hear Kaito's voice, but not make out the words, and then Kaito was coming into the hallway and waving him towards the living room with a tired smile, "Hey, Nakamori-keibu. Was there something you wanted to talk about, or were you just checking in?"

"Checking in," Nakamori admitted. "Kaito…" he looked tired, too, didn't just sound it. Tired and drawn, but there was more spark in him than there had been. There was still that worry in his eyes, but it wasn't the flatness of near-despair, and that was… _something,_ at any rate.

"I'm okay, Keibu," Kaito smiled, and while it didn't look _happy,_ it was at least genuine.

Nakamori shook himself, "I heard you had a house-guest for a while," he glanced around, wondering where the alleged child was.

"Conan's a bit under the weather. After just coming over from America, it isn't surprising."

No, it wasn't. Those few times Nakamori had attended seminars in other countries, he _always_ got a cold within the first two weeks. A few times it had happened just for going to other cities. The kid would probably be outright _ill_ soon, if he wasn't already. "You can always come to me if you need anything, Kaito," Nakamori reminded, eying the wry expression carefully.

Kaito's half-grimace softened to a grateful smile, "I know. Thank you, Nakamori-keibu. I… don't really know what I would do without you."

Nakamori smiled back, though he kind of wanted to frown. Or cry, maybe. There was a dark, bare kind of hollowness to that admission even though Kaito was smiling. It _ached_ to see Kaito like this. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he tried, "Although, Hakuba-kun, Kaito? I thought you didn't like him."

Kaito, to his relief, made a face. "I don't _like_ him!" a pause, then a reluctant, "… but he's alright, I guess. And Conan likes him well enough, and he speaks English, and… Shinichi likes it when I get along with him, so…"

Oh _._ _Oh_ , that hurt—and Kaito was still hoping, still holding to present tense even though it had been long enough that the hope was likely futile.

But then, Nakamori still had a faint spark of hope, himself. It was shrinking every day, and soon, he knew, his own hope would die out entirely. But Kaito… but he couldn't be the one to try and take that away from Kaito, either. He just _couldn't._

Kaito smiled at him, and it was a quiet little thing, not his usual rambunctious cheer but honest for all of that, "It's all right Nakamori-keibu. I understand. And… I can't explain it, but Shinichi's still alive. I know he's in some kind of trouble, or he'd be back already, but I _know_ he's alive."

There was something about that faith—he _couldn't_ deny it, and he found he felt a little better in the face of it. That dwindling spark of hope had just gotten a bit stronger. "I was supposed to be making _you_ feel better," he half-complained with a smile.

Kaito laughed, not quite so carefree as usual but happy all the same. "Don't you know, Nakamori-keibu? It's a magician's job to make people smile!"

Yeah, maybe Kaito _would_ be okay, so long as nothing broke his faith.

(He dreaded what might happen if something did, but for now—for now, it was enough.)

 _xxxx_

Four days, two murders, and one meet-and-greet with Nakamori-keibu later, Kaito received some very interesting science equipment and started the distillation project in the Kid workshop, although getting the alcohols needed to do so took some disguise work.

Also, the fact that an alcohol and the general physical effects of a cold virus negated a _body-destroying poison_ was a bit ridiculous. Granted, the actual chemical formula for the permanent version had little in common with the base alcohols, but still. He wondered if the cure could also act as a preventative.

Probably not a good thing to experiment with, but carrying a few of the 'cure' pills on them after they'd been made might not be a bad idea—if they could get one down someone's throat before the APTX killed them, they might be able to save a life or two. Not _likely,_ but it was possible.

So many steps took time, though. He sighed, set the appropriate timers, and made his way back up to the house proper to check on tiny-Shinichi. It really wasn't surprising that he'd gotten sick; his immune system was always even worse than usual immediately following a transformation, and the initial poisoning had been the worst of all. He'd caught a short-term bug already, and this cold was looking closer to flu.

 _Shinichi will be_ _fine,_ Kaito told himself. He didn't entirely believe it, memories of those times after Shinichi's immune system was all but gone insidiously terrifying. But… that had taken years and many, many reversions both ways.

And Shinichi _was_ fine, or close to it. He had a fever, sure, but it wasn't bad and he swatted Kaito's hands away from his forehead with a grumpy huff, which he never did if he was feeling terrible. "I'm _fine._ Let me read this, will you? I think it has something to do with what Akemi's been up to, and pretty soon she's going to need help. 'I'm' not here to provide it."

Ah. Right. He'd almost forgotten about that—they'd have to keep their own eyes out, since Akemi hadn't been given Kaito's name. While he had no doubt she could find it if she wanted to, the fact that Shinichi was _missing_ might get someone so kind to try and keep him out of it.

Thinking of things like that… "I need to set up a heist, too, or at least return the book—damn it, we haven't even talked to Togano, yet."

Shinichi nodded slightly, "Conan might be the best choice there. It's a little weird how people listen to me like this."

"It's because you're terrifying and come off like a mind-reader. You're also _six,_ which is a pretty common horror-movie theme these days—the psychic kid's always right and whenever you don't listen to them, _everything_ starts going wrong."

"Huh," Shinichi blinked. "I don't watch a lot of horror," he admitted. "I always kind of thought my life has enough of it as it is. How many of those movies are the sort that even people who don't like the genre end up seeing?"

"Probably at least two or three," Kaito hummed thoughtfully. "And there was one where the kid was the enemy, but no one knew it except whoever she lived with."

Shinichi grimaced, "That's creepy even just to hear."

"Well, she wasn't a _kid,_ she just looked like one. Not like you and Haibara, either, more like 'akuma'*."

"Right…" Shinichi eyed him dubiously, "Well, anyway. Do we know where Togano-san lives?"

Kaito drew himself up, exaggeratedly affronted, "Who," he looked down his nose in his best 'snobby rich lord' impersonation, "do you think you're _speaking_ to?"

Shinichi laughed, "Right, right. Get his schedule while you're at it, will you? We can just intercept him somewhere, I can tell him something appropriately Sherlockian anti-murder, and then we can keep an eye on him for a couple days. Return the book the same day I talk to him."

Kaito grinned, "That sounds fun. Prank someone into giving up on murder!"

 _xxxx_

Miyano Akemi kept her calm, pleasant expression on her face as she made her way back to her apartment, affecting an obliviousness she didn't have. She was being stalked, and she knew it.

She also knew who it was that was doing the stalking. There were wire-taps and sound bugs all over her apartment. She was going to be killed.

She'd hoped to at least save her sister, but without Kudo-san… and that it was unrelated to the Organization was unbelievable. She was certain Kudo-san had been found out and silenced.

But… _Shiho._ She had to _try._ Kudo-kun had been with a brightly cheerful lookalike—she'd looked on a library computer one day, when she was sure she wasn't being followed and had been given a research assignment by the bank she had then been working for.

That one had been Kudo-san's husband and had to know what Kudo-san had been offering her. He'd helped to set up the 'meeting', after all.

She hated that she was risking the cheerful boy's life, but for Shiho, she would risk _anything._

 _xxxx_

 _*Most of the time 'youkai' gets translated into English as 'demon', but really a more accurate translation would be 'spirit with power'. Just because they're dangerous and_ can _be malicious doesn't make them evil as a whole. D. Gray-Man uses the term 'akuma' which also gets translated as demon, but means something more along the lines of 'malicious spirit' or 'evil spirit' and is far closer to what the English word means._


	7. Chapter 6

_'m alive! Really. Most of the time. The rest of the time I'm a draugr, apparently, since I'm not infectious like a zombie._ Anyway. _I've finally gotten to this part, or, well,_ part _of this part. Do please point out any horrible mistakes, I'm not entirely coherent and don't have a beta, so I usually screen for my own mistakes but I'm not thinking clearly enough for that to be reliable. So. Anyway, here._

 ** _Chapter 6_**

"Conan…" Kaito hesitated, eying the envelope in his hands warily. If they hadn't been in the street outside the Kudo manor, he would have used 'Shinichi', since this situation seemed to call for it.

Conan's eyes sharpened on seeing the paper in his hands, alarmed recognition flickering in his gaze even though his face stayed clear. "Kaito, can we go home, now?" he asked in English, playing the part he'd claimed.

"Aa, of course, Conan. You must be tired." It was a long walk for a six-year-old, even one as scarily durable as Conan. Well, aside from his immune system, anyway, and there was something that _bugged_ Kaito about the envelope, a niggling familiarity that he couldn't quite place. He hadn't seen it before, but he was _sure_ he'd heard about it. From Shinichi, at that.

An hour later, they were home and Shinichi dropped all pretenses and told Kaito to call Hakuba, opening the envelope with steady, pale fingers.

Kaito did as ordered, mainly because Shinichi didn't give orders without a very good reason, and a puzzled Hakuba assured he was on his way before Kaito returned his attention to his miniature partner. "What is it?"

"Do you remember the Moonlight Sonata murders on Tsukikage Island that I told you about? The ones from when I hadn't been Conan very long?"

He did, but he hadn't heard anything about them this time around. He'd assumed something had changed and headed them off… but the tone and the grim gaze directed at the letter in Shinichi's too-small hands—a letter made up of kanji clipped from magazines and newspapers and ended with Asoh Keiji's name—said otherwise. Not headed off, then… merely delayed.

"I see. That's why we need Hakuba here, then?"

Shinichi nodded, "I can talk to Seiji-kun… before the murders start, if we hurry. I hope. I'll need the music that Asoh Keiji locked in his safe as the house burned down for proof, but it's in the old records in Tsukikage's city hall—it might be worth setting up a small heist if Hakuba can't come. We've been given until the next full moon, so…"

"That's two weeks. We'd better get a move on returning the book and heading off Togano, then."

"Agh," Shinichi sighed, setting the letter down and rubbing both hands over his face. "Why is it that this is happening _now?_ "

Kaito offered an apologetic shrug, sitting down next to his mini-detective and pulling him into a hug—one good thing about Shinichi being Conan-sized. He was easier to manhandle without getting mauled.

Shinichi squirmed viciously for a few seconds before surrendering, leaning into the hug with a sigh. "Well. That music is enough evidence to get the men who were murdered last time arrested instead, at least. So long as Seiji-kun doesn't do anything irreversible, this might be for the best, timing-wise."

Kaito gave the little form in his arms a gentle squeeze before standing up, ignoring the squawk and vague flailing. "Come on," he chirped instead, "Food time!"

He got a socked foot to the diaphragm for his troubles, and even without terror-shoes or hard rubber, it was enough to drive the air from his lungs in a startled 'oof'. His grip loosened, and Conan glared up at him from where he'd landed neatly on his feet.

Kaito only grinned unrepentantly, glad to see Shinichi getting his old Conan-fire back. That was one bit of the faux-child that Kaito had missed as time and stress chipped it away—how much vindictive pleasure Conan could take in _any_ challenge to him. Even when the viciousness was directed at him, it was fun—Conan was _never_ boring. When so small, Shinichi had possessed very few viable vents for his frustrations and equally few options to use his intelligence that didn't involve subverting the police force to his will from behind the scenes.

Shinichi was… _nicer_ than Conan had been, in many ways. As much of a masochist as it probably made him, Kaito had _enjoyed_ the savage ferocity a compact Shinichi could bring to bear. It was even more fun when aimed at someone else, but Kaito would take what he could get, including riling the beast when he was the only target in sight.

(Ten minutes later, he could only be relieved when the doorbell rang. He'd forgotten an important detail: Shinichi hadn't learned actual mahou until post _-_ Conan the first time around. Conan was scary. Conan with gadgets was terrifying. Conan with magic was _horrifying_ , and Kaito was only now beginning to realize how accurate his movie comparison was.

On the up-side, he probably didn't have to worry too much about mini-Shinichi's safety. Anyone dumb enough to take him head-on deserved what they got for it.)

 _xxxx_

Hakuba wasn't sure what to expect when arriving at the Kuroba house, as the call he'd received had been… Kuroba had sounded serious. So, he _hadn't_ been expecting Kuroba to come barreling out of the house only to duck _behind_ him, looking equal parts terrified and gleeful.

Not quite sure he wanted to know, he looked into the open door.

Well. That explained Kuroba's attempts at using him as a human shield, Hakuba noted in a distant part of his mind, most of his attention on the ball that Conan was tossing up and catching with one hand, a light smile on his face. This, of course, wouldn't have been at all alarming—a fairly standard move to either a child with a round toy or any baseball or softball enthusiast… except that the ball seemed to be made of _fire._

Hakuba tried to come up with a better response than incoherent gibbering, because it was one thing to see Kuroba or Kid pull that kind of stunt and entirely another to see a _six-year-old_ do it. With Kuroba or Kid, the automatic assumption was 'some kind of magician's trick' (or had been before the 'Introduction to Mahou 101' that a magician and detective duo had put him through), but even the best magician wouldn't allow young, finger-clumsy children to learn _fire tricks._

There was also the distant awareness that behind those glass-covered blue eyes was Kudo Shinichi's mind. Which meant that was either real or illusionary fire, but either way it was magic of the non-trick variety and Hakuba wanted nothing to do with it.

The boy in the doorway tilted his head, evaluated Kuroba's position peering over Hakuba's shoulder (Hakuba valiantly did _not_ Judo-throw him in front of the tiny predator), and shrugged, catching the fireball again before clenching his fingers through it and snuffing it out. "Eh, I'll get him later," he decided aloud.

Hakuba suddenly found himself understanding what Kuroba meant by 'Conan's not Shinichi'.

 _xxxx_

"Sorry for the welcome, Hakuba-kun," Shinichi offered up a cup of black tea as reparation. "Kaito knows how I get like this, so he annoys me until I snap. It's a strangely effective stress relief."

When Hakuba gave Kaito a look of blatant incredulity, Kaito grinned sheepishly and shrugged, "I forgot he knows magic, now."

Shinichi blinked, considering that. He was going to have to brush up on his skills—as few as they actually were in the 'effecting the physical world' part, there were plenty of situations that would have been a lot easier to handle with magic, even just the illusionary type. He generally tried not to use it unless it was needed—or practice, because there was no reason to let even the most outrageously mind-bending skill stagnate—but at Conan-size, 'needed' would crop up more often. He didn't have the physical capabilities to do quite a few things, but _mental…_ illusions were _all_ mental.

He smiled, "I'm sure it will come in handy. Anyway," he picked up the letter and passed it to Hakuba, "this is why we called you."

He let his fellow detective read the letter before explaining the situation and what had—or rather, _hadn't,_ this time—happened. The situation on Tsukikage was one that had left a lasting mark on Shinichi—one of the first where a suspect had committed suicide, and the only one where that suspect had done so in such a horribly painful manner, flinging 'Conan' to safety while staying behind to die in the flames.

He didn't want it to happen again.

(You couldn't undo death, and so many had died that time.)

Hakuba set the letter on the table, frowning as he sat back and picked up his tea, holding the handle-less mug thoughtfully, "They invited Kudo Shinichi, but it's obvious he can't attend… although the disappearance has been kept out of the news, now that I think on it. Kuroba having gotten and read the letter is, of course, perfectly legal, and choosing another detective of his acquaintance as a stand-in would not be unexpected with his husband 'unavailable'."

Shinichi nodded, "Exactly."

"Two weeks?"

"No," Shinichi refuted. "That's when the murders will start. Seiji-kun said he wouldn't have done it if he'd known ahead of time that his father had wanted him to live and be happy. We can take care of it this weekend—I'll have to trust he's still acting because he thinks his father wanted revenge. If we get the message to him, he should stop."

Hakuba nodded, "All right. I'll clear my schedule."

"Great!" Kaito clapped his hands once, "Meet us here Saturday morning—and, yes, we're skipping those classes. Arrange ahead of time."

Hakuba agreed easily, obviously of the same opinion as Shinichi and Kaito that life was worth more than school, and Shinichi gently bullied him into staying for dinner.

Kaito laughed and chopped ingredients while Hakuba did the actual stove-watching, Shinichi acting as the Cook Commander and giving instructions from the table.

Two days later, the three headed out to catch a boat to Tsukikage Island.

(An hour after that, an unmarked envelope was dropped into the Kuroba house's mailbox. No one was home to find it.)

 _xxxx_


	8. Chapter 7

_Well, I'm not dead. Pretty far from 100%, but not dead. Gragh, things are so hard to get done these days! On the upside, Dad's well, now. Also, short chapter is meant as proof of life.  
_

 ** _Chapter 7_**

"This is so _weird,_ " Kaito announced as Hakuba spoke to the island's head officer, an older mustached man who really should have retired years before. Takano Jirou* was kind and well-meaning, but was beginning to have trouble getting around quickly on foot and not terribly observant, possibly due to nearsightedness as he was constantly squinting.

Conan rolled his eyes and trotted into the room where the poor man couldn't find a key that, to be fair, he probably hadn't needed in over a year. Still, the offices for the island police were not very well organized and didn't have anyone aside from the two island officers to keep track of it. (The last time—so to speak—Conan only remembered there being one officer. Which meant the other, much younger officer Sato Tadao had probably been either ill or elsewhere.)

Rather than waiting the hours it had taken the last time they'd needed the key, he dug into the relevant drawer and pulled out a labeled key, ignoring Hakuba's startled blink and the officer's gaping as he handed it over.

Hakuba pinched the bridge of his nose as the younger officer turned a questioning look in his direction, "Don't ask. Just—don't. He _always_ knows. _Everything._ "

"That's not true, Hakuba-san," Conan chirped cheerfully in a mix of Japanese and English. "I only know _relevant_ things."

Kaito snickered, "He does kind of come off as psychic, though."

Hakuba paused, clearly turning the idea over. "Are you sure you're not, Conan?" he asked in English.

"Nope!" Conan assured with a eerily sweet smile, "That was just the only drawer he didn't think it was in. So…"

The younger officer blinked twice and wavered. "I'm… not going to ask," he decided, his own English heavily accented but in use for the 'child's' benefit.

Twenty minutes later, they had the sheet music and Hakuba hesitated only briefly, glancing at the officer before handing it to Conan. Conan, in turn, frowned at the papers, then nodded to himself and trotted towards the door, two teens and a young adult trailing after him.

"He's psychic," Kaito confided in quiet Japanese to Tadao-san. "It's the whole reason we're here."

Well. Not true, except—well, hm. What exactly did non-precognitive knowledge of events that hadn't been anything but decided in a person's mind qualify as? And it was as good an excuse as any, he supposed.

 _xxxx_

"Seiji-san?" Conan asked the apparently female doctor as soon as he got inside the clinic, holding the stack of papers in his hands.

Kaito settled to watch him work, intrigued by the quietly serious air to him.

"Hm? Oh, hello, boya," 'she' crouched slightly, looking startled but not too off-balance yet. "I'm Asai Nerumi, the doctor for this island. I haven't seen you here before; are you visiting?"

Conan paused, mouthing a few of the words with a slight frown as he made a slight show of parsing through the meaning, and Hakuba stepped forward and offered a quick translation.

"Oh," Conan nodded seriously, speaking a little stiltedly in his current rendition of childish American-accented Japanese. "Right. Um, Asoh Seiji-san? Your father left this for you. It's a code. I think you should translate it and hand it over to the police—he wouldn't want you to do anything you can't take back."

Seiji's legs went out from under him and he stared wide-eyed at Conan, "How—how did you—"

"You sent a letter for Kudo Shinichi," Hakuba stated, ignoring Kaito's mostly-suppressed wince and going along with the 'psychic' story. "Conan said we should come as soon as we could to make sure nothing bad happened, and then took those and brought them straight to you."

"But—what? How…"

"Shinichi's my husband," Kaito said quietly. "He's been missing for almost a month, now. I'm taking care of Conan until his parents get out of the hospital in America. But when there are letters from names I don't recognize, it's usually cases. Hakuba's a detective, too, and Conan has his own talents, so…"

"I…" the confused young man looked down at the papers in his hands, and Conan glanced at Hakuba, who took the hint readily enough.

"… Seiji-kun, is it?" he asked carefully.

"Ah, hai… I came here to avenge my father, and it seemed like it would be easier if…"

Hakuba nodded, expression darkening for a moment before he held out a hand, "May I?"

Seiji nodded, handing over the sheets, and the poor confused officer in the background seemed to need some support, so Kaito took it upon himself to provide while the two detectives did their thing.

"It looks like a basic keyboard alphabet code, with each note being assigned an alphabet letter. If you take this one here as 'A'…" he knelt beside the doctor, pointing at a place on the first page, and Seiji took over, sounding it out slowly.

Another ten minutes later, and Hakuba was nodding. "Will you come to the city building with us? We can get a copy and a transcript, and call Megure-keibu over from Division One. Get this settled legally."

"Yes," Seiji took the hand up, "Yes, of course. I… thank you. _Thank_ _you_."

It turned into something less than Kaito's Taskforce's usual three-ring circus to round up the drug-runner murderers, but for a murder case, there was a remarkable lack of bodies.

Conan was visibly relieved at the end of it, and Kaito was glad, although he had to wonder at the timing.

Back at the inn, he wondered out loud, ignoring Hakuba's confused look.

"… I don't know," Shinichi sighed, dropping his 'Conan' façade in the relative safety of a bug-swept and white-noise-generator protected room "It doesn't make sense that this would happen so soon after…" he indicated his lack of height with a wave, "Not again, anyway. It's not a full year later than last time, either, and Seiji had been careful about the timing last go 'round. I have no idea what changed or why."

Kaito grimaced, "Well. That's encouraging. Do you think it may have to do with that thing in Canada?"

"What thing in Canada?" Hakuba asked, and Shinichi raised an eyebrow at him.

"Landslide," he reminded, because they'd explained properly in more secure surroundings.

"Ah," Hakuba grimaced.

"And… I don't know. Maybe? I mean, we know magic exists, and ghosts—I guess other mononoke and youkai or even kami* wouldn't be such a surprise."

Kaito made a face.

"I know," Shinichi gave his own grimace, "but—what other explanations do we _have?_ There's only so much that can be attributed to coincidence, and we passed that a long time ago. And this— _this_ is beyond human agency."

"Agh," Kaito told him, Hakuba's determined move to tuck himself into the bed at the far wall obviously agreeing with the sentiment.

Shinichi shrugged, a motion that was more of a 'what can I do?' than anything else, and Kaito nodded, picked him up, tugged back the covers of the unoccupied bed with a _twist_ of will, and dumped him onto the mattress before snagging the covers in one hand and flipping them up over mini-Shinichi.

A muffled "Hey!" preceded some complicated wiggling before Shinichi's head popped up out of the tangle of blankets.

Kaito ruffled the easy target that was his hair and climbed under the covers himself, dragging a halfheartedly protesting Shinichi in close enough to cuddle. "No more thinking about this," he instructed. " _Sleep._ "

Shinichi huffed and relaxed. "Tell that to Hakuba. He's the one twitching in the corner."

Kaito glanced over just in time to see the lump under the blanket on the far bed twitch and snickered, "I can't even blame him," he admitted. "We at least had years between massive supernatural revelations."

" _You_ go to sleep," Shinichi grumbled back, closing his eyes determinedly.

Kaito grinned and followed suit. Nothing was happening that couldn't wait until morning.

 _xxxx_

 _*The officer in the episode is never actually named. Also, it makes no sense to only have one officer on the entire island—I've labeled them horribly understaffed at two and gave a younger officer as the run-around man this time._

 _*Most anime-viewers are at least passingly familiar with the concept of youkai, if twisted through many anime. The most common English translation is 'demon', but that's not entirely accurate, considering what 'demon' generally connotates in English. More accurate would be 'inhuman/non-human spirit with power'. Mononoke, from what my research has yielded, seems to refer to human spirits of varying types. There are separate words for spirits of the dead (ghosts), wandering spirits of the living, vengeful spirits, etc. Kami are natural gods, again a familiar term to anime-watchers._


	9. Chapter 8

_Well. It's something? I'm not entirely sure I like it, but it has all the general bits I planned for it, so... we'll see? Anyway, it's something._

 ** _Chapter 8_**

It was a habit to check the mail immediately upon getting home, and Kaito frowned at an unstamped letter tucked away in the drop-box, with the only address being his own name in a clean, feminine set of kanji.

"What is it?" Conan asked in English for the benefit of the neighbor across the street tending his plants.

"I don't know," Kaito headed up the walk and opened the door, sliding the nondescript piece of printer-paper out of the envelope and glancing at the writing.

He froze.

"Kaito?" Shinichi demanded sharply, flicking his glasses on and doing a quick sweep of the hallway for immediate bugs. "Clear in the hall," he added.

"Akemi—it's all here; she's meeting up with _Them_ in less than three hours—" They'd already planned out what to do, had everything ready and waiting downstairs in case of short-term notice, but this was— _too_ short.

"I can screen visually if we can intercept her," Conan pointed out. He couldn't bend light, but anyone in range wouldn't see anything unusual. Tricking the mind was easy, after all.

And the Black didn't _like_ cameras. Not even their own. Evidence was evidence, and just because it was in their own possession at first didn't negate the risk of infiltrators or even a good enough thief, and the Black was _careful_ about the possibility of getting caught.

"We've got to move _,_ " Kaito stated, terse. And they did, because Shinichi may have mostly gotten over watching her die the first time, but he'd lost enough that he'd wanted to save _this_ time, and they'd planned for this. Planned well ahead of time, and they had everything they were likely to need—except _time._ It would take nearly two and a half hours to cross all the way out to the far side of the warehouse district past Haido, and they still had to intercept Akemi.

Kaito would be the one swapping in, but they had body armor and a setup to imitate bleeding and a read on Gin's general reactions. Conan had been there the last time and knew the man pretty well, well enough to predict. Not only that, but with mini-Shinichi waiting in the wings with his impressive illusions, they _should_ be able to keep things from getting too out of hand. But 'should' was never something to count on.

(Time. Why was it that somehow, even with this second chance, that _time_ was one thing they so often seemed short on?)

 _xxxx_

Hakuba settled back into his own home with great relief. Kuroba and Kudo were bad for his mental health. He was… resignedly fond, he supposed, of Kuroba—though that had admittedly taken Kuroba confessing to his night-job and some partial truths that had been _truly_ concerning—and he liked his senpai's company and dry humor, even if the fact that he also stood in on Kuroba's night job from time to time was a bit startling at first.

Less so than the popping up out of the blue _married_ had been, but startling.

Adding in real magic had been upsetting. The further additions of not-premonitions, curses, and objects of great magical power ( _when_ had he become a character in a fantasy novel?) had been bad enough.

The shrinking? That was what really topped the list. He wasn't sure if it was better or worse that _Kudo shrinking to the size of a six-year-old_ was science instead of magic.

Seeing the miniaturized Kudo in action was actually kind of terrifying. He could only imagine how much worse it would be for someone who didn't know that the 'six-year-old'—wasn't. Also, the fact that he had lost none of his skill with magic was both reassuring and alarming.

No, wait, the shrinking _wasn't_ what topped the list—it was the _time travel._ Or possibly dimensional back-shifting, since surely they couldn't be in their original timeline anymore or they would have already done something paradoxical to negate their return by this point.

A firm knock on his door ended with Baaya walking in (without waiting for him to answer, a first) and handing him a cup of tea and a small plate of cookies. He smiled, "Thank you, Baaya," he took both gratefully, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He didn't. Baaya was probably the only reason he hadn't suffered from some kind of psychotic break with all the world-view-shattering revelations that his two friends kept dropping on him.

On the other hand, he had _friends._ Real ones, ones that he would trust with his life.

Baaya smiled back at him, "I think the Kuroba boy is good for you," she told him. "And… I think it's good you're there for him right now. And heaven knows that poor child he's taken in could use more than one person to talk to in a country where he's only just learning the language."

Poor child? … Ah. 'Conan'. "He's a smart boy," Hakuba informed. "He unfortunately also shares Kudo-senpai's luck. Kuroba said he'd be grateful if I stuck around more, so he doesn't have to keep fielding police officers by himself."

Baaya hesitated for a long moment, "Young Master… do you think they'll find Kudo alive?"

Hakuba paused, "Were it anyone else, after this long… I'd admit it wasn't likely. Kudo-senpai… Kuroba honestly believes he's alive, and there's always been something a little eerie between those two." Because he couldn't tell her the truth, not in this. "As long as Kuroba has that faith, I think everyone else can, too."

Baaya nodded slowly, "Well, then. I'll just have to keep praying for his safe return."

Hakuba thought about everything that could go wrong, and how small and fragile Kudo's body was at that moment. How he was suffering from a poison and the antidote held its own dangers.

"Yes," he agreed. "I think we all will."

 _xxxx_

Akemi took a deep breath and steadied her hands, pulling a picture of her sister from her pocket to look at for a moment to remind herself of everything she was doing this for.

The Kuroba boy had not responded, and when she'd chanced walking by his home again, she'd realized he hadn't been there in at least a full day. She'd left the letter as it was, even though it was a risk to him, because she wanted someone to know. To realize. To maybe, somehow… save Shiho.

She would do everything within her power, but right now she didn't _have_ the power. So, she would do the only thing left that she could to at least see her sister alive. Not safe, not happy—but alive, and maybe… maybe someday.

She might never know. Right now, all she could do was go quietly to her own death.

(Then Kaitou KID ambushed her as she made her way through the abandoned warehouse district and things started getting _surreal_.)

 _xxxx_


	10. Chapter 9

_Look, I'm still here! Also, it occurs to me that this storyline has been going on a while now... and I'm just starting to get towards half of what I'd initially planned. Yeesh._

 ** _Chapter 9_**

Kaitou KID. Here. _Helping_ her, from the look of it—and Akemi meant that literally, because he'd dropped down in a blur of white and promptly _swapped their clothes_ and _put on her face._ It had happened so fast she had no idea how.

She looked down at her hands and saw tanned, wrinkled skin that definitely didn't belong to her, "What…?"

"Stay with the kid," the thief ordered in her voice, sounding incongruously serene. "I know he won't be left out of this, and that's fine so long as he keeps out of sight—Kaku-kun*, be _invisible,"_ he added as she turned to see a strange child smiling at her brightly, looking like any scruffed-up six-year-old after a day in the park. His eyes were dark brown, nearly black but for eerie sparks of red reflected back from the paint of the warehouse door across the way. "Hai!" he chirped. "Miya-san, please keep quiet. It is easier to cover sight than sound. Kid-jii, I'm skipping you."

Kid frowned slightly, "… can you do something to keep me appraised about your visibility?" he asked.

Akemi blinked, baffled by the whole situation and half-convinced she was dreaming.

The child tilted his head with a frown of his own before abruptly turning translucent.

"Huh," Kid eyed the child for a moment, then shrugged. "That works. Can you cover Akemi-san as well?"

"For a while," the boy assured. "Maybe twenty minutes or so before it gets to be a problem."

She _was_ dreaming. It was the only explanation. Her alarm had yet to go off and she'd started out her day with one of those too-realistic dreams. She'd wake up and have to face a horrible reality… but at least this dream seemed relatively benign.

(She didn't. Wake up, that was. It took nearly a full day and catching her hip on a table in an apartment she was told was hers to convince her she was awake. It took another three to decide she wasn't drugged and hallucinating.)

 _xxxx_

Kaito didn't look it, wearing Akemi's face with a kind of grimly accepting calm, but he was about a half-step from terrified. He'd learned Shinichi's fear of Gin, learned it _well_ , and the first time the man had gotten a good hit on his partner the last time around Shinichi had nearly died.

He knew, rationally, that this time Gin's perfect kill record hadn't been stained by Shinichi surviving. This time Gin had no hand in Conan's appearance and didn't know either of them by face or name.

That did not make the man any less dangerous, and he very definitely had something against Miyano Akemi, whom he both looked and sounded like at the moment. (Vest was good, and he was glad he was wearing it. Shinichi was better, and he knew his too-small backup was already twisting perception around them, catching every mind within eyeshot. It seemed odd that Shinichi had more trouble picking and choosing targets than just blanketing an area, but that was just the way Shinichi was.)

Anyway, there they were—Gin and his partner, Vodka. That one was creepily loyal, considering how often Gin had gotten fed up and killed his partners—Vodka ended the same way, though he lasted a good three times longer than any other. Probably _because_ of the fanatic loyalty, come to think.

He could practically _feel_ how Shinichi tensed off to the side, he and Akemi tucked away out of sight and further shrouded in illusion. (Shinichi would pay for it later, covering more than just himself. The rules were weird, but it seemed a lot like Shinichi barely had to expend any energy to change how people perceived him _,_ but changing their perception on other things was for some reason harder. Kaito didn't get _why,_ though—he wasn't very good with illusions, but he'd never had that sort of noticeable difference in kind. It was all shifting how people saw things, after all.)

And what would Akemi say? She had gone for her sister, right? Still held to a futile hope, not believing it but clinging anyway. She was also kind, so kind, and would not be happy that people she'd worked with had been killed. Was it worth it to ask? Would she have done so? Shinichi had missed the conversation, only having arrived after Gin and Vodka had left the first time.

She'd had a bluff lined up, though, a bit of petty revenge for what she had suspected was coming. The stolen yen had ended up returned after it had been found, a slight dent in the Black's income.

Would she have asked?

What the hell. He would, and maybe they would think it knowledge-of-death defiance if it was a bit out of Akemi's character. "Why did you kill them?" he asked in Akemi's voice.

"Oh? You're asking?" Gin's lips quirked up, that same cold smile that haunted Kaito's nightmares. "It's just the way we do things. Hand over the money."

Kaito dropped more into the mindset he thought was Akemi's, "It's not here. I hid it, and I won't tell you where until you let my sister go like you promised."

They had promised, if Shinichi was right, but it had been so long that the details may have fuzzed, especially since Shinichi had learned it through the filter of a dying woman and hearsay from others.

"I can't do that," Gin stated, pulling out his gun almost casually.

Kaito braced himself.

"She's still useful, you see. The money is of little consequence, compared to what your sister is doing. Still, I'm sure you have a coin-locker key on you, and we can find the money easily enough with it."

Gin raised his hand and pulled the trigger twice in quick succession, and the impact sent Kaito staggering back several steps before he stopped trying to catch himself and crumpled gracelessly. He was glad of the vest and the 'bleeding' setup, and hoped that Shinichi was up to making the liquid (actually blood, because when those two left, if either one had any on them, it had to be real, and butchers were a decent place to acquire that kind of thing) feel warm.

It was Vodka who checked his pulse, and Kaito kept perfectly still, knowing that Shinichi had him dead as far as they could tell.

Gin didn't say anything, having no doubt in his kill, but Vodka nodded to himself before poking through his pockets and coming up with the key for the empty locker.

They walked out of the warehouse without a glance back or even another word, satisfied in their acquisition and 'kill', and there was silence for several minutes before Shinichi popped out from behind the crates with a confused and stunned Miyano Akemi in tow.

Kaito sat up, "Ow," he informed. "I mean, vests are great, don't get me wrong, but—that's gonna bruise."

Something eased in the line of Conan's shoulders at his tone, "You're all right, Kid-jii?"

"Yeah, fine," he climbed to his feet, rolling his own shoulders and putting himself in recon-blacks so he wouldn't look like a dead woman before turning his attention to the woman at Conan's side. Well. Not _quite_ Conan, the hair and eyes were a disguise there, too, as simple and subtle as the one he had on Akemi. "Come on, little Illusion. Let's get Miya-san somewhere safe."

 _xxxx_

"Well," Conan decided as Kaito unlocked the front door of the white house, "I'll check up on her tomorrow, but for now…"

Kaito flashed him a grin, "It worked."

"It did," Conan agreed, following Kaito into the hall and closing and locking the door behind them and doing a cursory sweep of the entry. Satisfied, he dropped the mask. "All right, get upstairs. I need to check your ribs."

"I'm _fine,_ dear," Kaito half-teased. "I promise."

Shinichi just _looked_ at him and he held up his hands, "Hai, hai. I'll let you patch me up."

(It really was mostly just bruising, and not the deep, dangerous kind. A possible cracked rib, but not broken outright, and in a few weeks Kaito would be completely fine even if it was. Less if it was only a bone-bruise. For once, something that went _right._ )

 _xxxx_

 _*Taken from Sakkaku, meaning optical illusion. Akemi doesn't know Conan's 'name' or that he's Shinichi at this point, after all._


	11. Chapter 10

_Gragh. Argh. I'm a... draugr! Yes. Not zombie. Don't like zombies. They're gross. Concept of 'undead', fine. Concept of 'rotting, infectious undead'... yeah, no. Ugh. On that note, have a chapter._

 ** _Chapter 10_**

The next several days passed relatively quietly—Kaito gave up on pranking again, not wanting to prod at an already-anxious Conan in class and there were only three murders that Conan tripped over. Hakuba followed them home and demanded to know if something was wrong and Aoko fussed and brought Conan and Kaito over for dinner for three days straight, but nothing really unusual happened.

Shinichi was dissatisfied with the lack of distraction. Granted, Conan snapping in class would be a _bad_ thing, so Kaito keeping his crazy to himself then was appreciated. After school, there was so much to _do,_ though—Kaito spent about sixty percent of his time in the lab set up in the workshop, checking and re-checking each step on the antidote, making _sure_ nothing was going wrong.

It only served to remind Shinichi that Haibara—Miyano Shiho, that was, not the Haibara he had grown to see as a closer friend than Ran had ever been—was locked in the basement of her own lab, her lab that they _still_ hadn't found even if they had possibles on several, and would soon try to commit suicide via her own poison.

And he didn't know what had caused her to survive last time, didn't know why he had—what if something had changed? What if she _didn't?_ What if something she said or did pissed Gin off enough that he decided shooting her was more beneficial to the Organization than keeping her alive?

He didn't know how long it had been between her sister's death and her complete, despairing rebellion. So many things had happened between that his memory of the relative times felt off, and the dates themselves hadn't felt important, in the long run. Not to mention Haibara had never said if she'd been on the streets for a while before making her way to Agasa.

So, yes, he was worried. Instead of leaving him to his own devices, Kaito dumped him on Hakuba and gave a very simple instruction, "Distract him, please. I _can't_ leave at this stage and he's going stir-crazy."

Shinichi folded his arms and gave the detective holding him a _look._

Hakuba hurriedly put him down.

Shinichi sighed, "Alright, fine. I know I'm twitchy. And Kaito's working on the antidote, which at the moment _does_ need constant monitoring. A distraction would not be unwelcome."

Kaito shrugged, "I'd call Hattori, but he doesn't know about…" he waved at Shinichi's height. "… also, he has no filter. He'll take it in stride and then call Conan 'Kudo' in front of anyone and everyone. People will then expect me to not want him anywhere near me."

"'Hattori'?" Hakuba asked.

"Hattori Heiji," Shinichi shrugged, "Son of Superintendent Hattori in Osaka. He's the kind of person who believes in the supernatural—which, admittedly, makes him smarter than most—and would figure out that I'm me without anyone telling him. But he's also a kind of honest that might be a problem at the moment."

Hakuba pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling something that wasn't quite a sigh. "You know, before I dealt with the two of you regularly, I never thought of honesty as a possible _problem._ "

"Yeah, well, when I was your age, neither did I," Shinichi grumbled.

Kaito made a strange little choked sound before he gave up and snickered, "The six-year-old sounds like an old man!"

"I'm not six, Kaito," Shinichi sighed, "Just—miniaturized. And do you _know_ what teenage hormones do to a body this size?"

Hakuba covered his face entirely, "Please. I don't need to hear this. Especially not from someone who currently looks like a six-year-old."

Kaito legitimately _fell over,_ cackling like the lunatic he obviously was. Shinichi went back over possible implications of what he'd said and decided it was Hakuba's own fault for taking that thought-route. Still, though, "Hakuba. I'm thirty-five, shrunken teenage body or no."

Hakuba paused, considered that, and gestured at the half-breathless laughing magician. "What does that make him?"

"Crazy."

Hakuba choked and Shinichi shrugged, "It's not like that should be news."

Hakuba gave in with a laugh, "No, it's really not."

Shinichi counted that a win. Hakuba really _was_ getting more relaxed, and it had only taken breaking his worldview a few times to do it!

(Kaito counted it a win, too. Shinichi had been successfully distracted.)

 _xxxx_

Kaito didn't bother cursing when he checked the latest results while Hakuba had Conan out of the house—he was the better of the two of them with chemistry, and while they both knew all the steps, Shinichi understood why Kaito wanted to be the one doing most of the work on the antidote.

The most likely time period for the refining and distillation to go wrong was the first three weeks. They didn't have the space for enough equipment to have more than one attempted batch going at a time, so that made two weeks of work useless.

Kaito firmly reminded himself that the lack of size-bouncing was going to give Shinichi's system a major break, anyway, this time around. Two weeks wasn't too bad of a setback. If it came down to it, another few months wouldn't make _too_ much difference, so long as Shinichi stayed away from certain herb-infused alcohols.

Legalities and ever-increasing complications on bringing Shinichi back set aside, anyway.

He disposed of the (useless) base and set about starting over. He'd have to plan on skipping school in thirteen days—oh, huh, wasn't that supposed to be an unlucky number in America?—to monitor the heat more exactly. Haibara had noted most of the more volatile days, but either she'd missed this one, lucked out, or Kaito had forgotten about it.

Either way, he was going to have to tell Shinichi. Also, start thinking about heist-planning, because poor Nakamori-keibu was really worried. And they _still_ hadn't returned that book… heading off that thing on Tsukikage and the barely-averted disaster with Akemi had messed up the tentative plans there.

Kaito shook his head and measured out a liter of Paical to restart the refinement process. There was so much to _do…_ maybe Shinichi could handle most of the planning for the heist. He wouldn't be able to be Kid this time, but he could definitely set things up beforehand…

(He now understood why Haibara had spent all her 'free' time holed up in the lab, though. He'd always assumed she was just antisocial, but this was really delicate work.)

 _xxxx_

"Ah! Conan-kun, Hakuba-san!" Takagi spotted the two walking down the street together and glanced around for Kuroba-kun, frowning slightly when he wasn't in sight. "Ano… where's Kuroba-kun?"

Conan-kun frowned back, looking intent as he replied slowly, his accent and lack of suffix-use reminding Takagi that Japanese was not the boy's first language, "Kaito had homework to do, so he asked if Hakuba could watch me for a while."

"No one wants to see Conan bored," Hakuba-san observed, and Takagi blinked. He'd forgotten… the accent was so subtle as to be unnoticeable and Hakuba was undeniably fluent in Japanese, but he was from England, so his first language would also be English. Even if there were differences from American English, he would be a good choice for a stand-in caretaker. And Conan might not be entirely comfortable with the '-kun'.

Still though, "Why not?"

"Aside from the fact that I'm fairly sure he's psychic?" Hakuba-san asked dryly. "Having Conan bored is not unlike having Kuroba bored, only he's harder to keep track of and less predictable. I do _not_ want to go to school tomorrow and find all the desks on the ceiling again."

Conan grumbled something in English. Now, Takagi's English wasn't the best, but he was fairly sure it was "I'm not tall enough to do that one," and he had to stare. He'd thought Conan was more like Kudo-kun than Kuroba-kun, but it was starting to look the other way around.

Deciding to ignore the aside (he had seen some of Kuroba's stunts' aftermath, and he did _not_ want to know), Takagi focused on the first part of Hakuba-kun's claim. "… psychic?"

Hakuba made a sound that crossed between aggrieved sigh and wry laugh, "He's like Senpai. He _always_ knows. _Everything._ "

'Is like?' So, Hakuba-kun thought Kudo-kun was still alive? Was it just that he was being a hopeful teenager, or… no. Takagi couldn't ask that. Hakuba believed it, and he was a good detective, young or not. He knew the odds. If he still thought it anyway… there was a reason. There _had_ to be.

Takagi felt something a little like a weight being lessened, a faint bit of hope sparking to life. He didn't know Hakuba-kun's reasoning—probably didn't want to, because there was a good chance it was some youthful optimism—but he was going to base his own on that unstated belief that Kudo-kun was alive somewhere.

"That seems a little exaggerated," he decided, addressing the more obvious content.

Conan pointed at him, "I like him. He's sensible."

Hakuba made an affronted noise and Takagi had to grin. He liked Conan, too. Sure, his perceptiveness was a little eerie sometimes, but he was a neat kid. Also, quickly becoming something like a mascot around Division One, which was… probably a bad thing. No one deserved luck like that, but Kudo and his little cousin both had it.

(He was starting to believe Megure-keibu's 'family curse' theory.)

 _xxxx_


	12. Chapter 11

_So, kind of choppy, but. Here._

 ** _Chapter 11_**

Being set back a few weeks was disappointing, but not unexpected with how many times Haibara had needed to start over even once she had the initial steps figured out. Of course, the fact that they'd had to move far too often had something to do with that, but still.

"It's fine, Kaito. We knew it was a possibility. What was this about heist planning?"

"I was thinking we could return that ridiculous book tonight—Togano-san's schedule allows for the dressing-down against his murder-plan and we'd _finally_ have it taken care of, and then plan a proof-of-life heist. Something simple, like Kid's stretching his wings after a recovery."

"Said return has been thwarted a few times, hasn't it?" Shinichi mused, "Sure, that'll get it out of the way."

Kaito beamed, "Great! So, school?"

The switch was visible, and Conan sighed and picked up his backpack, "School. _Boring._ "

"No arguments here," Kaito agreed. "At least Togano-san should be entertaining?"

"One can hope," Conan mused, ducking under Kaito's arm to open the door. "I should probably hide what I look like, and… hm…"

"Oooh, evil plotting noise," Kaito observed, shutting the door behind him. "Is there going to be fire?"

 _There_ was a tempting thought…

 _xxxx_

Kaito was just far enough away to not be able to tell what Conan was saying, and he was fairly sure that the lack of any mind-mending illusions reaching him was deliberate, because he'd never seen anyone with quite that look before.

He watched with interest as the man went from confused, to worried, to afraid, to utterly horrified, and pouted when he realized that the utter lack of sound was _definitely_ Conan's fault. Togano looked like he was yelling or close to it, after all, and Kaito was out of low-volume speaking voice earshot but definitely not out of shout-range.

Which, considering they were in a neighborhood and it was fairly late, was a reasonable move.

But had he really needed to include _Kaito_ in the illusionary noise-cover?

(Then again, he'd always insisted it was easier to blanket an area than to pick targets. He only excluded people when it would be dangerous not to—Kaito knew that, but still. He wanted to know what his mini-Shinichi was doing!)

Quite suddenly, Togano wobbled and crumpled to the ground, leaving Conan blinking at him. "Kaito," he called, suddenly audible. "Will you help me get him out of the road?"

Kaito stared for several seconds, "Did… you just scare him into _passing out?_ "

Conan toed at the man's side, looking disappointed. "You know, for a guy who was willing to kill a lot of people because he was offended over someone _writing a book,_ he's kind of a wimp."

Kaito couldn't disagree.

Nakamori found out about the book's return the next day, and his half-elated, half-enraged crowing was audible for hours. Heist planning was a definite must. Of course, first would be the Haibara issue…

 _xxxx_

"Hey," Conan greeted a worn, terrified girl two days later, Kaito producing some size-appropriate clothing for Conan to offer her. "Are you okay? Do you need a safe place?"

She shook her head, and Conan wasn't surprised, because this was the woman who had taken her own poison so as not to get any more innocents killed, secure in the knowledge that her sister was beyond her aid… or ability to harm.

"Come on," he sighed, dropping part of his this-time 'Conan' façade. "Your name is Haibara Ai. You have a sister about twelve years older than you named Haibara Miya. Miya found distant cousins living in the States and is starting to think about moving, but meanwhile you're staying in Tokyo's Beika area in a small efficiency apartment."

She stiffened.

"I knew it wouldn't kill you and that you'd have a much better chance of getting away clean this way. Tell us where you broke out and we can make sure they think you're dead instead of escaped."

 _xxxx_

Shiho was sure she was hallucinating, still trapped down in that underground lab's (emptied) storage room and waiting to die. She couldn't be a child, running into another child who had too-knowing eyes, one telling her things with other meanings layered in and around and beneath, things that gave her glimpses of a hope that she didn't dare reach out and grasp.

But if it was a hallucination and she was soon to die, she might as well tell it what it wanted to know. It wouldn't harm anyone, and maybe it would be a good dream to end on.

She watched as her hands reached out to accept the clothing the little boy offered, tugging on the sweats awkwardly underneath the too-big white blouse she was wearing before gratefully removing that white (poison-stained, too-clean _white_ ) reminder of where she'd come from, listened as her own off-pitch voice listed an address with a clinical distance.

Watched as the shadow her eyes couldn't quite make out shifted and disappeared, leaving her with a little boy taking her hand and leading her down the street.

Then she was at a ground-floor apartment, small but tidy, the little boy's knock answered by a woman that was _painfully_ familiar and she couldn't make out anything beyond the rushing in her ears as the little boy tugged her forward, quick words of explanation blurring to white noise she couldn't decipher.

And the woman fell to her knees, dragging her into a desperate, too-tight hug and all she could do was hug back. She was dead, she _had_ to be, and this was Nee-san welcoming her home again. Nevermind that she was a child while her Nee-san was still an adult, because no one said the afterlife had to make sense. The little boy had told her she wasn't 'Miyano' anymore, or 'Shiho', and that she and Nee-san were Haibara, she 'Ai' and Nee-san 'Miya', and if new names were the price of this, she would pay it gladly.

(It wasn't until a full day had passed that she managed to truly accept that she wasn't dead, hallucinating, or trapped any longer. Someone had bought her sister's life and her freedom, and she would never, ever forget.)

 _xxxx_

"Well, it's going to take a while for her to figure herself out," Shinichi decided, once Kaito was home and Shinichi was assured he was safely in one piece. "No evidence?"

"None of _me,_ " Kaito informed, sounding quite certain. "And it'll look like her clothes collapsed in on themselves with something shrinking inside… and since she pointed out last time that the residue's the same…"

Shinichi made a face. "Thanks. I so needed that reminder."

" _Point being,_ " Kaito continued, "It'll look like suicide. Both of them will end up on the 'dead' list."

"Good," morbid as it sounded. "That means that it should be safe for them to stay in Tokyo, for now. We could probably even swing forever, with some hair color and style changes, but… they might be happier with a fresh start."

Kaito nodded. Haibara had stayed for Shinichi's sake, last time around, and… she wasn't the same, wasn't going to _be_ the same, not with her sister still alive and no shared memories. This time, they didn't need her research, and as good as she'd been for the Hakase…

Well. They'd see. Or maybe ask—the Hakase first, probably, because if the girls wanted somewhere stable and conspicuously inconspicuous to stay, it was best the poor man had some warning.

 _xxxx_

Agasa Hiroshi had known, long before Shinichi-kun actually turned up in miniature, that the physical possibility existed. The boys had told him what had happened in their future-that-wasn't. He hadn't expected it to actually _happen,_ though, not—this time. He worried.

Not as much as Kaito-kun did, though.

Either way, when the boys turned up and asked what he thought of taking in two… they weren't fugitives, but he supposed it was close enough, his first thought was to wonder why.

Little Shinichi shrugged uncomfortably at the question, "I… well, the other you seemed happier, with Haibara here. I can't say this—these—Haibara will _want_ to stay, but if you wanted me to, I could give them the option."

Oh. That meant… Shinichi worried about him, too. Agasa was touched. "I have plenty of space," he agreed. "If they wanted to live here, I wouldn't mind."

Shinichi smiled, half-relieved, and Agasa wanted to hug him. He looked just like he had as a five-year-old, except so much more serious… and maybe a little broken, hidden behind his eyes.

"I'll ask them, then," he offered.

Agasa gave in and hugged him, smiling behind his moustache at the startled squawk and Kaito's cheerful cackle. He might not like that Shinichi was stuck in a too-small, too-frail body, but at least both the boys could still smile.

 _xxxx_

 _*I try to do language-appropriate plural conventions. I don't always remember, but I do try—and words don't get the 's'-type thing in Japanese, or an obvious equivalent thereof, from what my only actual Japanese-speaking (he's American, took it in school) friend says._


	13. Chapter 12

_Kind of interlude-ish, and not very long. Having trouble with my health again, so expect updates to be sporadic and slow. Fair warning._

 ** _Chapter 12_**

Planning a heist was usually entertaining, but Conan had decided to do something completely unprecedented and recruit Hakuba. For the setup, that was, not the actual heist.

(When he told Kaito of this decision, he laughed for a good five minutes and begged to be allowed to witness it when Hakuba found out. Thus him shadowing Conan's latest Hakuba-escorted outing, although Hakuba didn't know it.)

Conan waited until he was certain the only person in earshot was Kaito, who wasn't in direct sight _._ He didn't _need_ to be in direct sight to end up with the whole thing recorded—although he wouldn't, for this, since it was kind of incriminating.

Still. Public. Sort of. English, little-kid style, backed up by a jammer and white-noise generator that would only be noticeable if someone already had them bugged or had a directional mike aimed at them. "Hakuba, could you help me with something?"

 _x_

Kaito was hard-pressed not to snicker out loud, hidden as he was in the magnolia Conan had parked himself and Hakuba under. Such an obliging mini-husband, catering to Kaito's desire to see how Hakuba reacted.

Also, evil. Hakuba had this tendency to keep his word whenever he could, and the way Conan was looking for a promise prior to the actual description of the request was _mean._

 _x_

"Of course, Conan," Hakuba replied, immediately falling to Conan's more casual 'I'm a really smart kid, but I'm a _kid_ ' sort of tone.

"Great!" he cheered, and Hakuba had the awareness level to start looking a little worried. "You can help me set up for the heist, then!"

Hakuba choked, actually stumbling a step even though they weren't actually moving. "What!?"

Conan grinned at him, "Well, I don't _mind_ setting up on my own, but let's face it: I'm tiny. It'll take forever!" (Being tiny was often frustrating, but at least it was his choice, this time around. Sure, the other option likely would have ended with him dead, but he'd _chosen_ to take the poison this time and that… it made a difference. Took the bitterness out.)

"Dear lord," Hakuba looked genuinely alarmed, "You can't possibly mean to…"

"Do I seem crazy to you?" Conan asked, then paused. "Don't answer that. Allow me to amend: do I seem _suicidal_ to you?"

Hakuba calmed slightly, "No, you do not. Wait—do you _really_ want me to help you with…"

He looked so uncomfortable that Conan snickered. "It would be helpful, yes. Kaito's babysitting the antidote too often to put much time into it, and I'd rather my idiot not get shot."

"Fair point," Hakuba grimaced. "Oh Lord _,_ why am I _doing_ this?"

"Because you don't want him to get shot, either!" Conan chirped, smiling brightly. "Come on, let's see if we can beat him home."

"Wait, what?" Hakuba stayed confused a second too long and ended up covered in bright yellow smoke, his usually brown-blond hair a matching yellow when he emerged. "Damn it, Kuroba!"

Conan cackled outright. Moments like these made _everything_ worth it.

 _xxxx_

It was good to see them both still so lively, Hakuba had to admit. Also, he wasn't quite sure how he'd gotten where he was, but he was inside the Kaitou KID workshop. He remembered going up the stairs, smoke, and motion before he was falling only to land in a heavily padded chair that had some sort of shock-absorbing system. The room had seemed almost empty at first, but Kuroba had only shrugged and waved him at Kudo.

Mini-Kudo, who—Kuroba was definitely right. Kudo and Conan _weren't_ the same. There was something different in how he carried himself, in his eyes and the line of his shoulders. Hakuba really _couldn't_ mistake one for the other, not even knowing what he did.

He dragged his thoughts back on track and followed as Kudo led him across black and white wide tiles.

"Watch your step and don't touch anything unless I say you can," Kudo warned. "There are some interesting traps set up in here, and while none of them are fatal, not all of them are _friendly._ And when I say 'watch your step', I mean don't step on the tiles I avoid."

"Ah," Hakuba started paying much more attention to Kudo's too-small feet, not really wanting to find out what would happen if he ignored that instruction. Four meters in, and suddenly he could see a worktable along one wall, sets of drawers and storage chests. A few actual doors set into the walls—was this room not only underground (the drop had indicated a certain amount of distance, after all), but actually larger than a single floor of the house?

It was a little harder to tell, considering the western style to the home, with thicker walls and distinctive, closed-in rooms, but it seemed like this place was at least _longer_ than the house as a whole.

Huh. How had they managed to hide this while building the house?

Then again, Kaitou KID. Also, there was a mini-Kudo smirking at him. It was scary. "… what?"

"Did you know that Kaito is the son of two phantom thieves?"

Two? _Two?_ "Are you serious?"

Kudo grinned, "Oh, I found that out before I knew it was Kaito. Although I admit that once I realized the current driving force behind Kid, I was no longer surprised about his mother being Phantom Lady. She _loves_ her terror-tactics and acrobatics, and the first Kid was a little more… understated."

"I thought you said that Kid's a… tulpa?"

"Kaito told you about that theory, huh? Kaito made him more famous than ever before with the resurrection, and as Kaito is what any would consider a 'rightful heir'…" Kudo shrugged, picking his way around a black tile, then a white three further on. "But the first Kid _would_ use terror-tactics against hostiles, and he always liked teasing the 'force. He was just less acrobatic. Either way, though, with two of them? No one was going to notice anything odd about the building, and even the builders would have been convinced there was a perfectly normal, structural reason to dig up the whole yard."

Yes, considering how well _one_ phantom thief could convolute and obscure the truth (or blatantly lie with completely convincing false sincerity), he could easily believe that two were impossible to disbelieve when working together no matter how bold-faced the lie.

Wait. Kudo had just obliquely answered a question he _hadn't even asked._

"… Senpai?" Hakuba asked warily.

"You were measuring the room with your eyes, and glanced up twice. I assumed you were wondering about the dimensions and how no one asked questions about them. And also that if you weren't, you'd still be quite interested in that fact."

He was still growing ever more convinced that Kudo was psychic. The way he just _knew_ things… although so far there had always been an explanation. (Not always a reasonable one, though. Time travel might be _true,_ but it was _not_ reasonable.) Which meant—Hakuba hadn't actually asked, and wasn't planning to—they might have been friends, in whatever time-that-wasn't. In which case Kudo might just know him well enough to guess like that, and he hadn't yet had enough time to learn to return the favor himself. (Just because he knew magic was real was no reason to get lazy. He needed to stop seeing it where it _wasn't._ Kudo had already said he wasn't psychic, and Hakuba knew he had either eidetic or near-eidetic memory, so most of the 'psychic' instances were just remembering previous experiences and the rest were probably simple deduction. Kudo was good at that.)

"Senpai, what are the odds of someone committing a crime with magic?"

Kudo tossed him a wry grin, "Very low. There's a reason most hold mahou to be a myth. And it is… not wise, to use magic to kill. It _can_ be done, but… well. It's one of those things only those who've never been taught are willing to try. There's a reason that Akako-san only ever tried to _subvert_ Kaito before we called a truce."

Hakuba nodded, considering asking why before deciding quite firmly that he didn't want to know and should just be grateful that it was unlikely to be an issue.

"Anyway, here," Kudo dragged a chair out from the workbench he'd stopped in front of, climbing up on it to snag a neat file-folder and pass it over. "This is what we're after and the security and layout for where it'll be. We're going for simpler than usual, to imply getting back into things after an injury. KID's been quiet for a while, after all."

Twenty minutes later, Hakuba had managed to put the 'magic' thing back out of his mind and abruptly realized he was actually enjoying the challenge of planning a _Kid heist._

Dear lord, those two had corrupted him!

 _xxxx_


	14. Chapter 13

_Proof of life! Sorry for the long silence. Been hard to get things done, lately. Still I try._

 ** _Chapter 13_**

Nakamori sighed, settling himself at his desk. On the one hand, Kid was alive. The heist note and return of the book had been relieving, although seeing the ever-so-slight stiffness to some of the thief's movements and how simply said heist had been done, he was pretty sure he knew why the man had been quiet so long.

The rest of his officers had picked up on it, too, and Nakamori wasn't sure whether or not it was a good thing that they had automatically held back. He was pretty sure even with the skills they'd picked up from Kaito and Kudo-kun, Kid would have gotten away, but they could have made it harder for him.

On the one hand, they weren't supposed to _hold back_. On the other, if Kid had resorted to his usual style of getaway tactics, he could have negated what healing he'd already done, and Nakamori didn't like the idea of _hurting_ Kid to catch him when he was so stubbornly nonviolent.

Especially not after what he'd found out from Kaito. Sure, the thief was a _thief,_ but Toichi had been a friend. If that thief was so set on finding Toichi's killers as to risk his own life against those shadowy snipers, well…

He couldn't be _all_ bad.

(As if he hadn't known that already. Every time the higher-ups started questioning Nakamori's abilities, something would happen that had them singing his praises all over again, and Nakamori was _not_ stupid. But he refused to acknowledge what he'd noticed. He wouldn't risk it, _could_ not, because with everything coming to light that only further confirmed some very dark suspicions he'd had growing for the past few years, he knew that if the wrong ears heard he'd gone soft on Kid, Kid wouldn't be the only one having to worry about snipers.)

 _xxxx_

"So," Conan grinned brightly, offering Hakuba what looked like a homemade and extremely dark chocolate cookie as he blinked in mild startlement.

Hakuba accepted the cookie, "Hello, Conan," he hazarded, slightly wary.

"Welcome to the dark side! There's your cookie."

Kaito snickered, but Hakuba only looked puzzled.

Conan pouted, "How have you not come across that before?" Even _he'd_ seen it as a true teen, even if he hadn't been particularly amused at the time. Living with Kaito for so long had definitely warped his sense of humor.

Hakuba did not suddenly show enlightenment, "… I'm sorry, what?"

Kaito hopped to sit on the back of the park-bench, "It's an internet thing. I don't know who started it, but there are variants of 'come to the dark side, we have cookies' floating around on a lot of social sites."

Conan huffed lightly, "It would have been a lot more entertaining if you'd known what I was referencing."

Hakuba groaned, "You," he informed less flatly than he once would have, "are a pair of menaces. And you have _corrupted_ me."

Kaito offered an exaggerated cheer, complete with fist-pump. "Success!"

Hakuba didn't grace that with a verbal response, though he did take a bite out of the cookie. Conan grinned and produced two more, passing one up to Kaito before munching into his own, "Well, anyway, we don't have much planned for today beyond the usual. You?"

Hakuba shook his head, "Nothing in particular. I was hoping for a quiet afternoon."

Conan shrugged, "So go home. I can almost guarantee you won't get your quiet if you hang out with us. I haven't tripped over a body in a few days."

Hakuba grimaced, "Oh, lord. Thank you for that reminder, it was just what I needed to think about right now."

Kaito laughed outright, "We _have_ corrupted you, haven't we?" he asked, clearly delighted. "Also, please don't leave. I _hate_ fielding police at murder scenes. Megure's people listen to me well enough, but the others are a _pain._ "

Hakuba stayed with them a few more hours, and Conan's prediction was (once again) proven correct. There _was_ another body, but at least it was handled in a quick and easy manner. (Repeat, and all Conan had to do was point out the evidence for Hakuba to hand over to the police, and then they all went to do paperwork. The joy of being Conan again—an officer asked him questions and filled out the papers for him, since it wasn't like they knew he wasn't six. Also, the police in Tokyo were getting spoiled. They hardly ever had to do their own investigations!)

 _xxxx_

She and Nee-san were starting to get used to being 'Haibara' instead of 'Miyano'. Nee-san had even started calling her 'Ai-chan' instead of 'Shi-chan' or 'Shiho'. And—it was starting to feel like they were _safe._ None of her former coworkers had so much as wandered by, except Gin and Vodka, once. Neither had given her so much as a second glance.

(The strange little boy had been right, that she and Nee-san could be safe like this. And since he'd been right about that… well, maybe taking his grandfatherly friend up on the offer of a place to stay wouldn't be so bad, either.)

Ai smiled to herself and climbed into a chair at the kitchen table, accepting a bowl of rice and fish from Nee-san with a soft 'thanks'. It was a truth that the only way to truly escape the Organization was death, but it rather seemed like she and Nee-san had both met that condition. Maybe they really _were_ safe, now.

And if not—well, if not, the time they had together would still be worth it, even if it ended up being only temporary.

 _xxxx_

Hattori Heiji wasn't given to needless worrying, really. And he was _sure_ he'd have known if something too bad had happened—except that Kudo hadn't called in well over a month and neither had Kuroba. Kudo's disappearance was hardly a secret, and Heiji had initially expected to hear from one of the Kudo-Kuroba pair within a few days, saying it was fine.

Only that had never happened.

He'd had enough of waiting. It was time to go check things out with his own eyes.

(Kudo had better be all right. Heiji didn't want to find out anything else.)

"I'm coming too, ya ahou," Kazuha hit him with an overnight bag, "I want ta see wha' the big deal is about this 'Kudo' you keep goin' on about."

"Fine," he grumped. Maybe he could ditch her with Ran-san. They'd probably get along. Either way, he needed to know what had happened to Kudo—judging by the crazy that was already the Eastern Detective's life, it was probably nuts, whatever it was.

Kazuha paused, "This is really botherin' ya, ain't it?"

No point in lying. "Yeah. It ain't like Kudo to go quiet for so long, an' he's still listed as 'missin'. I don' like it, but maybe Kuroba'll have more." Hopefully Kuroba'd have more. The last thing Heiji wanted to do was find out that Kudo was dead.

 _xxxx_


	15. Chapter 14

_For the record, still alive. Been busier than usual, and well enough to handle it for the most part, so. Taking advantage while I can. Also, more time out with the horses, yay! That aside, I took a moment or three to sit down and hammer this out on my keyboard, but my Office subscription ran out and my documents are locked until I do something about that. Which. Seriously,_ why _are they making me pay multiple times for the_ same program? _That a relatively new development and I heavily disapprove._

 _Which means this was typed in Wordpad and my spelling is iffy at best. I went through several times, but I may well have missed something, so feel free to point out. (Also, I no longer have my own internet, it wasn't worth paying for when some months I can't even look at a darkened screen, so. Updates only when I'm in town or at the neighbor's.)_

 ** _Chapter 14_**

When a body fell from a stone balcony to land in front of Conan and his current 'minder', Hakuba (Kaito was in the lab again, doing the tediously careful work this particular antidote-stage required), Conan cursed in a mix of English and French.

Rather inventively, considering his apparent age.

" _Conan!_ " Hakuba stared, scandalized, "You shouldn't use such language!"

In reply, Conan turned a very flat look on the British detective, ignoring the screaming coming from all other sides. "Okay, one: you have been spending way too much time around people with my kind of luck, and two: dead body from several stories up. I will bet you my _entire_ Kaito Control Kit that Hattori is in town."

It truly said something about his life that Hakuba's first response to that wasn't 'dead body?' or 'what makes you think that Osakan's in town?' but rather: "You have a 'Kaito Control Kit'?"

Conan stared at him in something between disbelief and resignation. It probably had to happen eventually. Hakuba's sanity was just as questionable as his and Kaito's, now. "Hakuba. Dead body. From _balcony._ Work now, Kaito control methods later."

Hakuba stared back for a moment before covering his face with both hands, clearly horrified at himself. He took three deep breaths before lowering his hands. "All right. I'll call the police—please wait for me before looking around."

Definitely spending too much time around him. Conan would be more inclined to be sympathetic, except that he never got a break from himself, and Hakuba at least got to go home without Shinichi's curse trailing along.

(It was the butler. No, really, there was a _butler_ in the apartment. Granted, there was a whole floor rented out to one couple, who had both a butler and a maid. Which. Shinichi would never understand the way some people's minds worked. Also, he always got the _weird_ ones.)

Five minutes after the murderer was arrested, Kaito called with a "Conan? Hattori's here. You up for this?"

Conan sighed and glanced up at his minder of the moment, "I was right," he informed. "Hattori's in town."

Hakuba stared at him for several seconds before he apparently decided to ask, "... do I _want_ to know how you knew that?"

"A body fell in front of me from several stories up," Conan informed, perfectly flat. "That usually happens when Hattori's around."

Hakuba covered his face again, although he only used one hand this time. "Your _life,"_ he sighed, somewhere between resigned and disbelieving. "I don't even... your life, Conan. Yours and Kudo-senpai's, both."

Conan only shrugged, "Anyway. You coming? Hattori'll be there, but you haven't been getting along so badly." Which probably had something to do with upsetting Hakuba's worldview so much. Hattori wouldn't seem like too much of a strain on his already somewhat relaxed sensibilities. (Also, Hakuba could hardly complain about not following protocol when he'd helped plan a _Kid Heist_.)

"Did we?" Hakuba asked curiously.

"Get along badly?" Conan shrugged, still keeping to English partly for the sake of possible watchers and partially just as a reminder that he was this time's 'Conan'. "You met at a case. I was there, too—Hattori damaged possible evidence getting to the body. It was a locked-room case, and we weren't entirely sure if the guy was dead or just unconscious, and Hattori will always sacrifice evidence if it might mean saving a life."

Hakuba frowned, "And I disliked him over it?"

"Picture the you of nine months ago and the knowledge that the guy had been dead for a while, and by breaking a window to get in, Hattori might have destroyed any chance of finding proof on who'd killed him."

A slight pause, and Hakuba grimaced. "Ah."

Conan grinned, pleased with the unspoken admission that Hakuba didn't like who he'd been nine months before. "He'll still annoy you, I'm sure. He's Hattori. But he's a good friend, even if he's a rash loudmouth."

Hakuba made a helpless sound that wasn't quite amusement, "Alright, I'll stay for a while. Let's get you home."

 _xxxx_

"It's not..." Kaito sighed, frustrated. "Hattori. Just... _wait,_ all right? He's alive and as safe as he can be, under the circumstances, but I do _not_ have time for this. If you absolutely must follow me around, fine, but don't distract me."

He should have just ignored the door. Hopefully nothing had gone wrong in the minutes he'd been away from the still-finicky antidote. But it was Hattori, and he was worried. Even if Kaito did have to start the antidote over again, Shinichi wouldn't begrudge either of them it.

(But it would be another month, and Kaito worried, too. The longer Shinichi was Conan, the more chances for something to go wrong.)

At least Aoko had distracted Toyama-san. Hattori, even this younger one that Kaito hardly knew (Hattori had always been Shinichi's friend, really, but Shinichi's accounts were never anything but accurate and the one young one he knew of was brash, loud-spoken, quick with mind and kendo both, and loyal above all) would not endanger a friend intentionally, and once he understood the situation, Kaito wouldn't need to worry about him talking.

Well. Not on purpose, anyway. Shinichi's main complaint about the Osakan had been that he had often called him 'Kudo' in front of others when he was Conan.

So getting called 'Kuroba' while being Kid was a possibility—although maybe explaining the tulpa theory would prevent that. And Conan was better at not being Shinichi when he needed to be Conan than he ever had been early on the last time around, and the Black didn't have any clue about Shinichi this time.

Maybe it would be fine. (Or at least not _disastrous.)_

He ignored Hattori as the detective followed him to the workshop, besides giving a quick "I know you're a detective and therefore curious, but I warn you that many things in this room will explode if mishandled and what I'm working on is literally a matter of life or death, so don't _touch_ anything."

"Righ'," Hattori agreed, deliberately tucking his hands into his pockets.

That had always been something Kaito had appreciated about the good detectives. Even the old Hakuba had taken any possibility of causing future harm very seriously, and Hattori had always cared more than most.

A light flicked green near the back of his worktable as he shifted the antidote off of the heat-coil and added a tiny, careful measure of powdered foxglove (and he hated that he had to use the actual plant, but Haibara's attempts at using the extracts and synthesized digitalis had failed spectacularly) before switching it to the second heat-coil, already heated to the lower temperature needed for the next stage.

He ignored the soft beep alerting to the front door opening upstairs, the earlier green light having already proved it was Shinichi and possibly Hakuba, if he'd brought the Brit in with him.

Shinichi would know better than to distract him, too, but he only needed a few more minutes to verify whether the last step had completed successfully. If any sediment started forming in the antidote, he'd have to start over. If not, they were safe for another two days.

For now, there were only a few more tense minutes to wait, but there was nothing he more he could do either way.

 _x_

Heiji noted the way Kuroba's shoulders slumped—not at ease, but in waiting resignation. Whatever he was doing, he was at a lull-stage.

Carefully, quietly enough that it would be easy to ignore him if he'd read the situation wrong, he voiced a question. "What are you working on?"

Kuroba sighed, "An antidote. It's... _finicky."_

Alarm sparked up, "Antidote?" Heiji could only think of one reason for the use of that word, "Who's it for?" Because 'antidote' usually meant 'poison', and the only person that had dropped out of sight...

"... I think you already know," Kuroba sighed, rubbing his face. "If I get it right this time, it'll reduce the risk of permanent damage."

Reduce. This time—whatever it was, it had happened before? Damn, that was either bad luck or something unavoidable.

He opened his mouth to ask which, and he heard a soft thump behind him, immediately followed by a much louder one and an irritated curse in English.

"Tadaima," a child's voice said quietly.

Kuroba sighed, turning away from his beakers, "Okaeri," he greeted in return before glancing back at the faintly purple liquid, "I think we're safe for now," he decided. "Also, language, Hakuba! You shouldn't say such things in front of impressionable children!"

Heiji turned to blink a the two who had literally just dropped in, only vaguely hearing the half-British detective's dry return upon seeing a mini Kudo-copy in glasses picking his way across the floor. "... Kudo?"

"At the moment," the mini-Kudo replied, barely giving him more than a glance as he moved towards Kuroba.

Kuroba met him halfway, picking him up and propping him on a hip like an actual child while moving back over to the work-space with the lab setup. Mini-Kudo eyed the glass slightly less intently than Kuroba had been a minute before, then nodded once.

Kuroba put him down.

Heiji wasn't quite sure what to say.

Mini-Kudo sighed sharply, glanced to Hakuba and Kuroba in turn, and then turned those too-sharp eyes on Heiji. "Explanations down here. Kaito, blast shield?"

 _Blast shield?_

Kuroba must have done something in response to the half-question, because there was a grinding sound and a blast shield dropped from the ceiling, shutting the little lab-space away from the rest of the underground workshop that Heiji was absolutely certain belonged to Kaitou Kid.

He wasn't going to ask. Or mention it.

 _Ever._

(Already he knew that here was more at stake here than pride and Kid's catch-and-release jewel thieving ways. Time travel aside, Kudo was _tiny_ and the 'life or death' and 'antidote' comments were enough to warn that the size wasn't indefinitely sustainable. The mention of 'permanent damage' all but said Kudo was _dying._

Heiji barely knew the guy, but that feeling of long-standing friendship was more than enough to have worry coiling in his gut. He didn't want Kudo to die.)

 _xxxx_


	16. Chapter 15

_So, not dead. But now I need an actually physically here proofreader, and I'm pretty sure that some things aren't getting quite fixed right, and I can't really do my own proofing with a screenreader, so. Sorry for mistakes. My lovely friend who is truly doing her best is not an English major, so may be excused for any minor misses - if any are noticed, feel free to point them out in reviews. Maybe we can manage to clean things up somehow._

 ** _Chapter 15_**

Hattori was an interesting field—not that it hadn't been expected, really. There was a reason that Shinichi had put off telling him, even though he'd known it would get found out eventually.

He loved Hattori like a brother, but the guy had no brain-to-mouth filter and tended to call Conan by the wrong name all too often.

Hakuba wasn't sure what to make of any of it, and Kaito was just glad that the antidote hadn't been compromised. They had a bit of time.

That said, Hattori was still in town and Conan's propensity to trip over murders really _did_ somehow get even worse in that guy's presence, and having Hakuba and Hattori on the same case might not be as annoying with Hakuba being significantly more relaxed than the last time around, but those two still grated on each other.

Not as annoying didn't mean 'not annoying'. Go figure.

Conan pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled hard, then raised his head to pin the bickering detectives with a baleful glare. "If you two don't cut it out, I'm going to have you play Kaito's version of dodgeball," he promised in English.

There was a pause, and the two exchanged a wary glance before each taking exactly one step that took them further away from both Conan and each other.

"Heh," Hattori, scratched the back of his head, "Ya wouldn' really, would ya?" he asked nervously.

Well, no. He'd go easier on them than Kaito, since he doubted they'd actually manage to dodge. But he would definitely peg both of them with soccer balls if they didn't stop being idiots. That in mind, he increased the intensity of his glare. "A person is _dead._ You're both detectives, and rather than bickering you should be working together to find the truth." Which he already knew, because it was yet another 'repeat', and he really wished he could catch one early enough to _prevent._ "That said, I'd suggest looking under the left-hand corner of the windowsill in the kitchen, in the kitchen wastebasket, and at the legs of the couch in the sitting room. I'm going to go glare at someone."

And if they couldn't figure it out from that, Conan would be pressuring a confession with illusions. He was _not_ in the mood for this to drag out.

(It turned out that he didn't need to. The glare alone had the culprit begin to sweat, and when Sato eyed him carefully and asked if he was all right, he started babbling an apology of a confession. Hattori seemed baffled as he poked his head out of the kitchen to watch, and Hakuba stepped back into the room with an expression of vindicated understanding. Conan was just glad to get to go home.)

 _xxxx_

Heiji was confused. No, Heiji was _very_ confused. Kudo wasn't quite a meter tall and looked like a kindergartner, and yet somehow his glare was scary enough to get a confession from a man who hadn't even been accused.

Hakuba offered him a wry sort of smile, "Conan-kun can be quite terrifying," he informed. "I admit that I'm curious as to what might happen if anyone ever tried to use him as a hostage."

"I'm not," came a dry interjection and Heiji jerked around with a curse as Hakuba jumped.

Kuroba blinked back at him, looking mildly concerned, "Are you all right?"

"Wha' the hell, Kuroba," Heiji managed, pressing a hand over his racing heart as he tried to convince his system that the reaction was a _false alarm_. "Would it kill ya ta make _noise_ when ya walk?"

"Possibly," he stated, equal parts blithe and serious, "but I'd really rather not test it and find out."

"Gah," Heiji shuddered, recalling the recent rundown on existent threats, and conceded the point by not making an issue of it. "Jeez, Hakuba, how come ya ain't half outta yer skin?"

"Acclimation," Hakuba replied, perfectly serious. "Kuroba has been in my class for over a year."

Yeah, that would do it. "Huh," Heiji considered for a moment, "Gotta say, I don' envy ya tha'."

"Still standing here," Kuroba pointed out.

Hakuba made a sound that was probably a choked-off snicker as Heiji flinched at the reminder, "Yeah, and even tha's hard on the nerves." He paused, glanced around, and noted a distinct lack of anyone under a meter in height. "An' where's mini-Kudo?"

"Plotting out ways to permanently disassociate himself with Kudo Shinichi in your mind," Kuroba said cheerfully. "I'm thinking there will be lots of mental trauma in your near future."

Hakuba straightened his jacket and nodded to Kuroba, "On that note, I'm leaving."

"Good idea," Kuroba agreed. "Go home, have some tea. Avoid the fallout. Can I come?"

"By all means," Hakuba gestured towards the door and raised his voice, "Conan, I'm taking Kuroba with me!"

Heiji felt a little nonplussed by the whole thing, "Oi, guys—"

Kuroba gave him a bright smile, "You're hereby elected temporary for-appearance-only babysitter. Good luck, and try not to have a heart attack while I'm gone."

"Take good care of Kaito, Hakuba!" a bright child's voice piped in English from somewhere _way too close_ beside him, somehow making the simple sentence sound like a threat.

Heiji jerked away from the source of the sound and—didn't see anyone. "All righ', where are ya?"

"I don't think I'll tell you that, Hattori-san," chirped childish, American-accented Japanese as the other two made their escape. "We need to have a little _talk."_

(Okay, so it turned out that the kid had a point. Calling him Kudo was excusable the first few times, but dumb. And with the total change in not only size but personality, plus the accent and word-choice differences—yeah, okay. Conan wasn't Kudo. Kudo was Conan, but Conan wasn't Kudo—which was a weird twist of logic, but kinda made sense. Still, he hadn't needed to illustrate with _fireballs._ Even if they hadn't been real.

At least, he dearly hoped they hadn't. If that kid could throw actual fire with his mind, Heiji did _not_ want to know about it.)

 _xxxx_

"I admit I feel somewhat guilty for leaving Hattori-san alone in Conan's sights," Hakuba admitted, offering his temporary guest a cup of tea.

Kuroba only grinned, "Conan won't do anything damaging," he informed with the air of one pointing out the obvious, "and having Hattori call him by the wrong name is one of those things that would _really_ bug me if things were different. As it is, it's still a problem. Hattori's a kind of honest that... well. You saw."

He had, at that. A blunt and somewhat bumbling sort of honesty, which... yes. He could see how that might prove troublesome, and if Hakuba hadn't known the truth—well, it would have bothered him to hear anyone not Kudo called by that name were his semi-mentor missing in truth, instead of just official paperwork. He could only imagine how much worse it would be for Kuroba, with reminders of his husband all around him and then someone bumbling about calling a child under his care by his husband's name.

"Honesty as a problem remains a novel concept to me," he admitted. "Worse that I see your reasons and _agree."_

"Sometimes it's better if the truth isn't known," Kuroba sighed, "Especially when the majority wouldn't believe it, and the minority that _would_ are the sort to kill to ensure that the truth is never confirmed. That said—regarding almost everything else, I find Hattori's inability to lie somewhat endearing."

Endearing. By which Kuroba was probably being polite and actually meant 'cute', in the 'bumblingly earnest puppy' sort of way. Which it would be, but _Hattori._ He was so unprofessional, even at a crime scene—and while Hakuba agreed that if it were remotely possible that a victim were alive to be helped, evidence should be sacrificed to the chance, he really should at least show some decorum, if only out of respect for the seriousness of such situations.

Hakuba sighed lightly, "Still."

Kuroba gave a half-shrug. "On an unrelated note, the chemistry project is going well."

Chemistry—ah. The antidote. A relief. "Oh?" he asked, hoping for more explanation than that.

"It's got stages. There's one more thing to do that might get a bit touchy, but aside from that... all we really need to do is wait."

"How long, then?"

Kuroba paused, calculating, "So long as I don't have to start over again, three and a half months."

Hakuba blinked. "That long?"

"Yeah. Theoretically it could be sped up with a catalyst, but the problem is that it's three different compounds being distilled out of the same solution, and I haven't found a catalyst that doesn't throw the whole thing off and leave me needing to start over. And I don't want to waste another two months starting over."

"I can see why," Hakuba admitted, grimacing. From what he'd been told, the longer Kudo was stuck in travel-size (Kuroba was a terrible influence on his phrasing), the more chance of whatever damage lingered being bad.

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, for all its weight. Despite Kuroba's common tendency to warp the world in color and smoke, he was surprisingly capable of blending into the quiet.

He wondered if this was what his grandfather had felt like, settled in the sitting room with an old friend and a cup of tea.

Well, probably not. As companionable as the silence was, the preceding conversation had kind of precluded any kind of contentment, and Kuroba's version of idle thumb-twiddling involved three tiny balls of fire twirling in one hand like meditation balls.

He wouldn't say anything unless Kuroba lit something on fire, because it was easier to ignore that kind of madness than to try and wrap his mind around it. Still, tea and the company of a friend.

Baaya would be ecstatic.

 _xxxx_


	17. Chapter 16

_It_ has _been a while, for which I am sorry. I've been having a harder time getting things done in general, in no small part due to the fact that my service dog got ill. She died a few months ago, and she'd been one of my stable points for a long while, even not taking into account how much she did for me. So, yeah - I've been having a hard time. I may or may not end up getting another - as my needs have changed more towards the 'guide' type service dog than the more simple 'helper' type, the likelihood of that happening in any sort of timely manner is slim. I can see light and color, but that's about it at this point, and if it weren't for the fact that Blackhawk is still going strong and has his own eyes, getting into town would be a lot harder than it is. People are helpful (yay small towns!) and my fiance will be finishing up his doctorate relatively soon, and we'll see where we go after that. For now, I'm managing somewhat clumsily, and here's hoping that my proofreader can catch usage errors, because I have no idea whether or not speech recognition can and know perfectly well that spellcheck sucks at grammar._

 _I also_ miss _reading..._

 _ **Chapter 16**_

Another week passed in relative quiet, with Hattori heading back to Osaka and Conan (plus whoever was 'minding' him) only running into two murders and a kidnapping attempt.

Haibara and Miya-san were yet undecided on what to do, and Shinichi hadn't explained his own situation. He'd considered it, but... Haibara was so _different,_ with her sister there. She was still Haibara, sharp-witted and sarcastic, but the biting edge to both her humor and her personality in general just - _wasn't there_.

Oh, she was still hard, jaded. But the edge of bitterness that she'd always had, especially in the early years, an edge born of guilt and grief and fear... it just wasn't there.

And Shinichi couldn't bring himself to tell her, not when she wasn't even living with the Hakase yet. Not when she was safe and free and even _happy._

(His Haibara was dead, lost in fire and blood, and this young one... maybe she could have the peace Shinichi's Haibara never had.)

 _xxxx_

"Miya-nee?" Ai (and it was getting easy, to think of herself like that, to think of herself like the child she was _grateful_ to be again, easy to think of her sister as 'Miya' even if she'd never before this imagined Akemi _not_ being Akemi) asked, a little concerned by how her big sister was tapping her pen against the 'new employee' form she was filling out, only occasionally having to check with the records they'd been given.

(Whole lives sketched out for a young woman and a seven-year-old, perfectly imperfect, with all the minor flaws and misfiles and coffee-stains that bored office workers would end up with. Odd, though, that her name had the kanji it did - she would have expected 'love', but was given instead grieving regret. Which, in honesty, she thought suited her better, but that they had seen that, too...? And she wasn't quite sure why they'd chosen 'Miya', especially with the kanji for 'arrow' in it. It was almost like whoever had set it up _knew_ them, on a sort of level that even the Organization would never be able to claim. Which would be worrying in itself, but...)

"Yes, Ai-chan?" her sister glanced over, eyes thoughtful but expression mildly concerned.

"Is something wrong, Nee-san?" Ai decided on, not quite sure what else to ask.

"Oh... no, Ai-chan. It's fine. I was just thinking about whether we should meet this Agasa-hakase. I'm a little concerned..."

Normally, she'd agree with the concern, but... the offer had been given by Kuroba, who's husband had offered to help the Miyno sisters before he'd gone missing. And Kuroba... if he wasn't Kaito KID, Ai would be rather surprised. Not that she would dream of turning him in, not when he'd given them this chance. "I would usually agree that we should be," she admitted, "but... for some reason, I think they're really just trying to help."

Her sister considered for a few moments. "Well. You're usually right about things like that," she agreed. "They've been leaving us to our own devices, aside from the offer of either meeting this Agasa-hakase or helping us go to America. I admit that it will be hard to make ends meet for a while without help, and you need to be enrolled in school - don't make that face, Ai-chan. Not going would be suspicious."

Which was true, of course. And homeschooling was nearly unheard of, so that certainly wouldn't work. "I know," she couldn't quite keep the grimace from deepening for a moment, "Ugh. I have to go to _grade school_."

Her sister laughed, "At least it won't be difficult."

Gods, no, it was going to be _so_ boring.

"Who knows, Ai-chan? Maybe you'll make friends."

And maybe the sun would rise in the west. They were all at least _ten years_ younger than she was. But... well. She'd occasionally watched children in the parks, and she had to admit she'd envied the easy truth of all their interactions. Young children - they didn't... she wouldn't have to second-guess everything they said or did. If nothing else, that at least would be refreshing.

"Now, do you want to call the Hakase or shall I?"

"You should finish your paperwork," Ai hopped up to dig out the phone her sister had taken her to get a few days before and grab the notebook that had a list of numbers to call in case of questions or emergencies, only stumbling a little as she misjudged her reach, and took a few moments to actually enter contact information in her mostly-blank contacts list before calling.

It took seven rings for the man to pick up, and there was an odd hissing sound like a leaking air-valve in the background, but he sounded cheerful. Kind.

... Maybe this really _was_ a good idea. Maybe - maybe this would really work out.

(Hope stung. But - it was a _good_ sting, like sitting near a warm hearth after coming in from the cold.)

 _xxxx_

Ran closed her phone and stared at it for a long moment, Kuroba-kun's words ringing in her mind with a startling sort of wry wisdom and a parting shot of understated hope.

 _"No. Shinichi isn't everything to me. He wouldn't want to be, and I wouldn't want to be everything to him. When you lose everything, there's nothing left - and he would want me to have something left. But - have a little faith, Ran-san. I'm not giving up on him just yet."_

She huffed, lips quirking into a smile against her will. Kuroba-kun was right. Shinichi wouldn't want to be everything to _anyone,_ and somehow she didn't believe he was dead, either.

"Oi, Ran! You coming?"

"Hai, hai!" she pocketed her phone and grabbed her purse, "Coming, Sonoko!"

"About time! Honda-kun and Katsumi-chan are waiting for us!"

That's right, they were. And Shinichi would want _her_ happy, too.

 _xxxx_

"You okay?" Kaito asked when he finally spotted Shinichi after emerging from his latest antidote-check, curled half-hidden in the living room armchair with a book open on his lap and a stare that looked through the pages rather than at them.

Shinichi blinked, giving himself a slight shake before glancing over at Kaito and offering a quick smile, a little wry and a lot tired. "Just thinking. Agasa-hakase called; Haibara-" he shook his head and self-corrected, "-Ai-san apparently asked if she and Miya-san could meet with him. It just..."

"Ah," Kaito crossed the room and Shinichi closed his book (English, historical fiction - not his usual genre) and shifted over, his tiny form easily leaving space for the magician to sit, which he did before hauling his miniaturized husband in for a sideways hug.

Things like that brought home how much they couldn't ever get back, and sometimes it was hard to look at those here, now, who weren't the ones they'd lost - because memory said they _should_ be but they _weren't_ and it _ached._

And Kaito missed Haibara, her acid wit and steady loyalty, but the undersized woman who he'd known, who Shinichi had been so much closer to, wasn't coming back.

Kaito knew that, and it sometimes hurt more to look at Jii-chan and have so much be _missing_ than it had been to know him gone forever. The same was true of others, and Shinichi - Haibara had been much of what Jii was to Kaito, to Shinichi, and in many ways more - though she'd always been closer to 'sister' than 'aunt', and added to that a friend. Confidant, backup, assistant - and the only other in his unique situation of a body younger than the mind within...

And this Ai? Would never be any of those things, at least not to the same degree, and looking at a familiar face and hearing a familiar voice and not being recognized in return...

At least he'd known Jii _before_ the point of their return.

Shinichi sighed and leaned into his hold, nodding. "I miss her," he admitted.

Which... yeah.

"And I feel bad that I wish this Ai-san was more like - but I know _why_ Haibara was that way, and even _thinking_ that I wish..."

Kaito hugged him tighter, unable to voice his reply aloud, but he'd felt the same way with Aoko a few times. Her later maturity had come of hardship, and _she'd_ been the one left thinking him dead, but he'd checked in as often as he'd dared to risk it and seen her become a strong, _good_ woman.

(He'd loved her, then, and he'd loved the wild, bright-eyed girl that was all temper and life, but he'd been so _proud_ to see who she'd become. And wanting to see her become that woman again, when so much of _why_ had been the pain of losing her best friend and her father and a classmate-friend from high school? Yeah, he felt guilty about wanting that too.)

He couldn't voice it aloud, but his grip shifted against Shinichi's shoulder, tapping out understanding that he deserved to hear.

Shinichi huffed and his fingers flicked in acknowledgement, 'We're human, after all.'

Kaito breathed out a laugh and stood, scooping Shinichi up (and knocking his book to bounce off the armrest and land in the cushions), because Shinichi _knew_ people, even ones he'd never met. Most of the time, he understood, too. "Dinner," he declared, "will be ramen."

Comfort food. Guaranteed to make any situation look less bleak.

Besides which, the Haibara sisters choosing to meet the Hakase would likely help them all in the long run, especially if they did accept the invitation to share his home. It wouldn't be the same - _couldn't_ be - but 'different' didn't have to be 'bad'.

And what they had now was so much more than what they'd hoped to have again.

(Sometimes it just got a little hard to remember that, that's all.)

 _xxxx_

Another week (three murders, one kidnapping, a broad spectrum of minor robberies, and a major bomb-scare that involved Conan, a large building, and disarmament) later, and Kaito felt pretty optimistic about the chances of the current batch of antidote making it all the way to the final month - most of the next few months were far less finicky than the early and late stages, and with a lot of care and a little luck, they might manage a full-sized Shinichi before the next year.

Hopefully.

That aside, the two elder Kudo were back in town, and Shinichi didn't seem entirely sure what to do with it. Conan presumably would have met them at least once in their gallivanting across the States, but considering Yukiko... most six-year-olds would be a bit leery, and one as quiet as Conan would likely outright shun someone of her... _enthusiasm._

That said, Shinichi had _missed_ his parents after they'd been killed, even if he'd hardly ever seen them even before then, and it was understandable that he at least wanted to check in with them, to know they were there and alive and safe - but even then he understandably found his mother's antics a bit wearing after a while.

If it came down to it, _Kaito_ could find Kudo Yukiko to be a bit much, and his own mother was nearly as bad at times. (His mother's scare tactics didn't generally involve _actually_ shooting at people, though, and the same couldn't always be said of Yukiko. Sharon Vineyard was a _bad_ influence, and she'd always been closer to Yukiko than Chikage. Black operatives were _scary,_ even when they were aiming to bring down the organization as a whole.)

"We could go to dinner with them?" Kaito suggested, a bit uncertain, after checking his texts and finding one from the woman in question.

Conan nodded, mindful of their location. "... she's less scary with Uncle Yuusaku there," he agreed, American English flawlessly childish.

Kaito considered that, then conceded with a nod. "Except when they plot together," he agreed, ignoring the way Hakuba blinked at both of them and Aoko frowned as she puzzled through the conversation.

"Kaito-kun's getting a lot better at English with Conan-kun around," Momoi-chan mused, also in careful English, snapping her bento closed.

"Should you even be here today?" Hakuba asked, apparently deciding that the fact that no one had suffered for Momoi breaking the lingering silence was insurance enough to ask.

Kaito supposed he _had_ been a bit twitchy.

"Why wouldn't we be?" Conan asked.

Hakuba wasn't the only one to stare, though a few of the others took several seconds to work through to the meaning. "Conan, you were caught in the bombings yesterday."

Conan tilted his head, looking confused, "I didn't get hurt or anything," he pointed out. "The only one that blew up wasn't _that_ near me."

Hakuba opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly nonplussed.

"Yeah," Kaito agreed with Hakuba's clear speechlessness, "I used to think that about Shinichi, too. I'm not even going to _try_ with Conan."

Conan gave him a suspicious sort of glare the way only a six-year-old could manage (although full-sized Shinichi had regained the ability post-Conan, which was downright _creepy),_ then apparently decided it wasn't worth the effort and dug out a novel to read.

Aoko tilted her head to squint at the cover, frowning, "Is that really a book for a six-year-old?" she asked doubtfully, in slightly halting English.

"If you want to tell him he can't read it, be my guest," Kaito offered. "Considering his _life_ is more violent than most mystery novels, I'm not too concerned."

There was a pause as the majority of those still in the classroom for lunch deciphered that, then Momoi conceded the point for the lot of them.

Then their English teacher walked in, a little early, and offered a smile to Conan, "Thank you, Conan, for getting the class to practice regularly. I think they're the best English-speakers in the entire school, now!"

Well, there was that, Kaito mused, tapping something to that effect on his desktop before snapping the lid on his own bento as Conan did much the same. The class was willing to speak English to include Conan where they certainly hadn't done anything like that for Hakuba, seeing as he was a teen. Not that they _needed_ to, but they didn't know that.

Conan huffed softly and stuck his bento-box back in his backpack before pointedly returning his attention to his book.

Kaito grinned, just a bit. At least _some_ things never changed.

 _xxxx_


	18. Chapter 17

_So, this is something of a filler chapter, but it does contain elements that will be pertinent later. Also, I have discovered that spelling is correct when I use the voice recognition to type, but as I'm still faster typing even if I can't see what I'm doing (I'm a touch-typist), I am still inclined to had-type things and use the screen reader to read it back to me. I_ think _I got at least most of the errors, but... well, it is what it is. Looking into a new service dog as well, but so far no good match._

 _I've also gotten a number of reviews praising my dedication, but I'll be honest: this isn't dedication. While I can't write as much as I would like to, I would go insane if I didn't write at all. I enjoy it, and I'm not going to allow_ health issues _to stop me from doing something that isn't going to do me any harm that I truly like doing. Stop trying to maintain fence-lines and the like on my own? Sure. Stop writing? Not as long as it's physically possible. I'm a stubborn thing._

 _ **Chapter 17**_

Miya startled awake to the sound of a small explosion and took a moment to press a hand over her racing heart and breathe in deeply before letting the breath back out with measured care. From somewhere in the hall, she heard Ai-chan scolding the hakase and the sound of a fire extinguisher and couldn't quite stifle the giggle.

She was already getting less alarmed by the semi-regular explosions, and when she was awake before the first, she barely even blinked at the noise these days. Hearing her little sister scolding Agasa-hakase not for recklessness or endangering anyone but rather for making so much noise before 'Onee-chan' had woken was hilarious.

And also spoke volumes of how _safe_ this place felt, despite the more than occasional enthusiastically experimental inventing. She glanced at the clock - it was still a bit early, considering she worked part time as the night shift for the little convenience store nearby, but she was awake so she might as well get up.

Ten minutes later, still smiling, she emerged from her room mostly ready for the day. "Good morning, Ai-chan, Hakase-san."

"Oh... sumimasen, Miya-kun," Agasa-hakase rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "I didn't mean to wake you."

She giggled again, seeing the stink-eye Ai-chan was giving the man for the budding familial affection it was. "It's all right, Hakase-san. I can forgive you an hour here and there. Oh, thank you, Ai-chan," she added as Ai set a plate and bowl on the table and pointed to the seat she'd placed them before imperiously. "Are you sure there's enough?"

"I'll just cook the last portion now," Ai dismissed, going to the fridge to pull out a third small trout, deftly flipping the second onto another plate and dishing up a portion of rice before ladling a second bowl of miso soup and taking a moment to drop the last fish into the still-hot pan and placing the second plate and bowl across from Miya and directing the still-sheepish Agasa to sit as well.

Miya abruptly felt relieved. She'd been grateful to the man for taking them in so easily, but if Ai was already bullying him into healthy meals and having them eat together before Miya herself woke up, then this was the best decision they could have made.

She smiled at the man, earning herself a confused blink, "Arigato, Hakase-san."

"Ah... you're welcome?" he asked, looking confused.

Miya beamed and went to get three cups of water, setting one before the hakase and one before the empty seat that would be Ai's, taking a quick sip of her own before setting it at her own place and going over to serve up Ai's soup and add rice to a third plate while Ai tested the last fish to see if it was done.

They hadn't had a true family breakfast since they were children, and now - the hakase wasn't their parents, but already it felt more like home than they'd had since long before their parents had died.

(It was easy, now, to think of herself and her sister as Haibara instead of Miyano, to even think of them as their new names first. Miya and Ai weren't bound to the service of evil people, weren't trapped. Miya and Ai had _friends,_ even if they'd only just met them. It was so much better to be Haibara instead of Miyano, and if their names were given to keep them from forgetting, these new lives of theirs holding fragments of tribute to the old, Miya was grateful for that too. She was sure their parents would be happy to see them safe like this, and not begrudge them abandoning their old names for their freedom.)

 _xxxx_

"O-oi, Conan-ku-" Takagi cut himself off and cleared his throat, remembering that while the '-kun' didn't upset Conan, he didn't seem entirely comfortable with it either. "Erm, Conan," he corrected. "This... seems like a bad thing," he stated, looking around at what was clearly a murder scene.

Conan only sighed dejectedly and scuffed the floor of the genkan with a socked toe, outside the range of the immediate evidence in what should have been a surprising display for a kid, but was completely expected from Conan after seeing how he tripped over just as much death-related crime as Kudo-kun. Well, the two both tripped over a fair amount of more petty crime, too, but Takagi was fairly sure that was less because they encountered more of it and more because they noticed it more than the average civilian. Petty crime wasn't exactly uncommon after all.

"Also, are you by yourself today?" Takagi asked as he looked around, not seeing either of Conan's usual... he wanted to say 'minders', but half the time it seemed like it was the other way around.

Conan shook his head, "I was with Nakamori-san. She's, um..." he pointed outside, and Takagi turned to look, seeing the girl that looked almost as much like Ran-san as Kaito-san looked like Kudo-kun. Only unlike Ran, she clearly was not prepared for a bloody murder scene, because she was sitting curled up with her knees against her chest looking more than a little shaken and clinging to her cellphone like a lifeline.

"Ah," Takagi winced. He vaguely remembered meeting the girl before - the daughter of the man in charge of the Kaitou Kid's taskforce and Tokyo's Division Two. She probably wasn't nearly as familiar with violent crime as Ran-san was as a childhood friend of Kudo-kun. "Can she tell us anything that you can't?"

Conan shook his head, "She saw him covered in blood and as soon as I said he was dead, she ran out there. I think she called her dad, and maybe Kaito, too, but I heard he's gone to Kyoto for a seminar or something. I think he took a plane, so he probably didn't answer, and Kaito lost his phone yesterday so it ran out of battery, and even though he found it just before she and I left, it probably isn't charged yet."

That was Conan. Just as logical as Kudo-kun, if with far more limited phrasing. Then again, he was picking up Japanese fast even for a kid, and he'd actually gotten to the point of full, if accented and somewhat simply worded, conversations already.

Also, he had a better vocabulary for synonyms for blood, violence, and death than any six-year-old should, much less a six-year-old who had only been learning the language for a few months, regardless of near-complete immersion.

Takagi sighed and very deliberately put those thoughts from his mind. "All right," and it was probably bad that he felt more comfortable questioning the six-year-old than the seventeen-year-old, but Conan was obviously coping better. And used to it, depressingly enough.

"Right. Do you want to call anyone, Conan?"

"Mm," Conan glanced back at the girl curled under the tree and frowned, then waved for Takagi to wait and ran over to her, asking her something in English that Takagi couldn't quite make out.

The girl blinked, looked up, and spent several seconds thinking through whatever she'd been asked before she nodded and entered a number into his held-out phone before passing it back to him.

Conan then called the number and spoke quietly to whoever answered before hanging up and switching back to English to say something else to Nakamori-san and then jogged back over to Takagi and switching back to Japanese with fair ease.

"I called Momoi-san from class," he explained. "I know Hakuba is busy, but Momoi-san is Nakamori-san's friend, and she said she'll come over right away."

"That's probably a good idea," Takagi conceded as Sato arrived with forensics just behind, "She seems pretty shaken up. Ano... why did you talk to her in English?"

Conan rubbed the back of his head in a gesture a lot like the one Kudo-kun used when he was embarrassed, "She still has to stop and think when she hears English in the classroom," he explained. "With how upset she is, I thought it would be good to make her focus on something else, even if it was only for a little bit."

Takagi looked over again, and conceded that she wasn't curled up quite so tightly. "You're really kind, Conan," he observed. Kind and _smart_ about it, keeping it from being obvious and all the kinder for it.

He really was like Kudo-kun... well, except for his tendency to prank people, which was like a moderated version of Kuroba.

Conan looked aside, then abruptly frowned and took three quick steps into the house, paused in the genkan, and kicked off the socks he'd run across the yard in before padding barefoot across the floor to frown at a corner of the wall that had a small grey scuff-mark.

Just as quickly, his expression shifted to sharp realization, and the tilt of his head sent a harsh glare across his glasses, obscuring one eye completely and half-hiding the other. In that moment, he looked _frightening._

"Ano... Conan-kun?" he asked warily, suddenly feeling the need for the suffix no matter what Conan's usual opinion on it was, because it added a tiny bit of distance without being formal enough to be off-putting, even though he wanted to use '-san' in face of that expression.

Conan's expression blanked so fast it was eerie and he turned to face Takagi again, the light flashing off his glasses. By the time his eyes were visible again, he was back to being the Conan Takagi was getting used to, brilliant and focused but still a child, no matter how perceptive.

"We should call those people marked on his calendar today and see if anyone knows anything."

"R-right," he hesitated a second longer, "Ano, Conan... what did you just see?"

Conan paused, and Takagi felt very much like a slide under a microscope, all his secrets laid bare if only the eyes looking knew how to unravel them. After a moment, the boy nodded and gestured to the wall, "Look, and then call those people, and look at them. I think..." he glanced to the scuffed wall, "I think you'll understand, then."

Slightly puzzled but willing to give it a shot, Takagi approached the scuffed corner and squatted down to eye the mark.

"Eh?" he looked closer, "The paint is chipped off and the plaster is crumbled a bit. And what is this grey stuff?" he spread his hand next to it and snapped a picture, then reached out to touch the very edge of the mark. "Colored chalk?"

He considered, then took a second picture to document the part he'd smudged, the same hand in the picture so the bit of chalk that had rubbed off on his glove was obvious.

"The kind we use to draw on sidewalks," Conan agreed. "Do kids here do that much? They're pretty popular in the summer back home. They always came in packs with a few different colors, and only the really big packs had grey. Mostly the little four-packs are all bright colors, or sometimes three bright colors and white or black."

"Huh," Takagi straightened and went to look at the calendar on the wall above the hall table, and just like Conan had said, there were names and times penned in on the date, and an address book on the table itself conveniently provided phone numbers.

Conan was just as scary as Kudo-kun - maybe more - if only due to his age, and Takagi was willing to follow his advice. "Right, then."

"Takagi-kun," Sato came into the hall, "What have you got?"

"Here," Takagi scribbled down two of the four pertinent numbers and passed the address book to Sato. "I'll call the first two from the calendar. Will you call the last two?"

"Eh?" Sato blinked and looked at the calendar, blinking at the picture - a fluffy-looking tortoiseshell kitten that was curled up cutely in a basket lined with a white blanket - and then checking the calendar date and making a sound of comprehension. "Right, of course."

Twenty minutes later, all four had arrived, and abruptly Takagi understood what Conan meant by 'you'll understand then'.

The one Takagi would have thought the least suspicious, being a small and somewhat mousey-looking man with a pronounced limp and a cane with an arm-brace, had grey pants with a faint lighter smudge near the knee.

Now the only questions were how and why, because _who_ was already clear.

(Conan really was frightening, sometimes. The age and the glasses made it worse.)

 _xxxx_

 _Takagi-keiji is really getting better_ , Shinichi observed from behind the shelter of Conan's glasses, watching as the officer sought out the clues that would lead to how the crime had been done. There was a great deal of blood, after all, and the weapon hadn't been anything as simple as a knife, though it was clearly a bladed weapon of some kind.

On that point, Shinichi recalled - not _this_ case, but the people and the weapon. Well... the victim, the killer, and the weapon. The other three hadn't been involved at all.

That said, the weapon _was_ well-hidden, and without a frame of reference or familiarity with the type of wounds, the police wouldn't know where to look for it for some time, and if the killer managed to get to leave before he was arrested he could likely get rid of it entirely. However, he also still had the weapon in his possession. So long as they knew what they were looking for, it would be found.

Takagi finally spotted it - a thin scratch along the hall ceiling, above where the dent in the plaster was, and just before where the first of the bloodstains started.

"Eh?" he squinted upward, "What is... that's too high for even a long knife..."

Shinichi kept his Conan-flavored Poker Face up and gave a mental smirk.

"... and it's really thin," Takagi muttered, mostly to himself. "Just like the cuts on the body... and there were scratches on the floor in there, too."

Shinichi allowed a pale hint of his smirk through to the real world.

"But what would leave marks like that?" he asked the air. "A long, thin blade... but it couldn't be a sword, because someone would have noticed if anyone left carrying something like that, and there's nothing in the house..."

Well, Takagi probably wasn't very well-verse in foreign archaic weaponry, even if not all of it was really old. "A rapier," Conan offered.

"Eh?" Takagi twisted to look down at him.

"It's a fencing weapon. Dad has one on the wall at home, because he took fencing when he was in college. It's a really thin, bendy sword. Aristocrats used to have them concealed in things like decorative canes and umbrella handles and things in England - Dad's is supposed to sheathe into this neat cedar cane so that the eagle that's the hilt makes the cane's handle, but the wood cracked a long time ago, so it's only a display piece now."

"Like a cane...?" Takagi's eyes widened, "So _that's_ where - thanks, Conan!" he took off and Shinichi smirked outright, tilting his head just enough to have his glasses catch the light again.

Takagi was awesome. He was no genius with edietic memory, but he was smart and open-minded, and he paid attention. He wasn't inspector material yet - he was too timid still - but he was already one of the best detectives in Division One, and it wouldn't be long before he was _the_ best at this rate.

Shinichi very much approved.

"Ah, Sato-san! I think I figured it out!"

Conan trotted to the genkan and picked up his socks, flapping the dirt and grass off of them out the front door as he sat, and turned his head just enough to catch Takagi-keiji's eye with a quick smirk and a nod, and Takagi nodded back, expression firming with the silent confirmation.

Conan put his socks and shoes back on, slipping out the door to go check on Aoko and Momoi under the wisteria. "It won't be much longer," he assured, mostly in English. "Takagi-san figured it out."

"Ah," Aoko perked up, replying in kind. "Is that person a detective?"

Conan nodded.

"The way to say that is 'Takagi-keiji', she informed.

"Right," Conan chirped, nodding.

Momoi glanced at him and smiled, because she probably knew that Conan had to have picked up those suffixes with how much time he spent around police. "Thanks, Conan-kun," she murmured, sitting back against the tree trunk.

Conan nodded back at her and settled in to wait.

 _xxxx_

Kaito let out a breath and turned stepped back, closing off the lab-area with the blast shield again and pulling out his phone to turn it on and set an alarm for an hour and a half before he needed to make sure of the next step, adding ten-minute reminders just in case, and called Conan.

The response to his initial inquiry was not entirely unexpected. "Another case? Was it a repeat?"

" _Mm... not exactly. I'll explain when I get back, but Takagi-keiji has already solved it so it shouldn't be much longer_."

"Not exactly? Now I'm curious. Call me if anything else happens or holds you up, okay?"

" _Right. I'm sorry about all the trouble_."

Yeah. He always was. Kaito didn't blame him, _couldn't_ blame him. But - on bad days, Shinichi blamed himself. Thankfully, only on bad days - but it sounded like it was bordering on a bad day. Then again, most repeats made for bad days, no matter how well he held up _during_ the cases, and if this was really some 'not quite' repeat...

Well, worrying about it was pointless.

That in mind, Kaito headed to the kitchen and started cooking, aiming for one of Shinichi's comfort foods - red curry rice, with the curry spiced to have a bite just shy of _hot._

He'd missed being there for whatever had just happened, but maybe he could make up for it a bit.

Not long after the curry was set simmering, Conan walked in the front door with a deliberately English "I'm home!"

"Okaeri," Kaito called back, tossing some rice into the rice cooker and setting the timer so it and the curry would be ready at about the same time, snagging out a jammer/white noise generator combo and flicking it on as he headed for the front hall, the door closing behind Conan with a click.

"It's clear," Kaito assured. "What happened?"

(The explanation was not encouraging, even if the later response to the curry was. Cases repeating, but not the same way? Things were changing outside of their direct influence, and that - that was both good and bad, it seemed. Changing, but not _enough.)_

 _xxxx_


End file.
